


The Power of Three

by fauxgenda



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Additional but minor love interests, But so are witches and demons, Charmed AU, F/M, M/M, Werewolves are still a thing, minor PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 69,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxgenda/pseuds/fauxgenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three Stilinski siblings, Lydia, Allison, and Stiles, have had their fair share of hardships and are no strangers to conflict, but everything changes when Stiles moves back home. You see, he MAY have read a spell from an ancient book, releasing their destined powers and allowing them to claim their birthright roles as the Charmed Ones. These new Protectors of the Innocent will have to figure out their magic quickly to survive the evil that's coming. </p><p>Charmed AU that'll vary a lot from the original show, if you're familiar with it. You don't need to know anything about Charmed to read this, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Began With a Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> So this is a Charmed AU with one vital difference: Lydia, Allison, and Stiles are way smarter than Prue, Piper, and Phoebe. They're gonna learn a lot faster and without some of the dumb plots from Charmed; I want to keep their characters closer to their TW selves than their Charmed counterparts, but there will be some personality differences simply because they've had different lives. I will adapt certain Charmed episodes if I like the demon of the week or the personal side of the plot, but a lot of Charmed episodes were just kinda bad, so I'll skip them or merge plots. I also want to incorporate TW plots, like the Hale vs. Argent stuff, so that's also gonna cause some changes. 
> 
> Also, unfortunately, since Derek is the Cole of this story, he won't be appearing for awhile. With me merging/skipping Charmed episodes, it won't be as long a wait as in the original show, but I don't want him in the story until it's ready for his plot. As for Paige, I do have a TW character in mind for her, but I haven't decided if she's going to appear in this story or the sequel yet.
> 
> Now, last note: this chapter is a bit of an introduction to the story. It's got the three major characters' thoughts shown just to kind of set them up. After this chapter, each scene will be from one person's POV (still 3rd person though) because I think it's less messy that way. I've already got the next chapter written and it's a lot longer; it just needs editing. It'll be up within the next couple of days. Also, I've borrowed a lot from the first episode of Charmed just to get things going in the first two chapters. After that, I'll be using the show's general plots/themes more than its dialogue.

All Allison Stilinski could think about as she rushed up the stairs to the doorway of her San Francisco home was that her big sister was going to be all sorts of mad at her. She quickly unlocked the door to escape the downpour outside and sure enough, Lydia was waiting for her in the foyer with a scowl.

“You know, having a full-time job makes it a little hard to be here during business hours to wait for the repair man. You could’ve at least warned me you wouldn’t be here. Now we have to figure out what’s going on with the chandelier ourselves or call him back to reschedule,” Lydia ranted, pointing up at the light fixture that just refused to work properly.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Allison grimaced. “I just got caught up looking for the ingredients for my audition tomorrow. I’ll call back the repair man and deal with it, don’t worry.”

Lydia pursed her lips, then sighed. “What are you making?”

“Grams’ favorite,” Allison replied, softly. “It’s my best dish.” After graduating from college, Allison took a job as a bank teller to help support her family. With her Grams retired and having severe health issues, the Stilinski family seriously needed the stable income and great health insurance.

But Allison never wanted to work in a bank. Cooking had been her passion since she was a child and she was pretty damn good at it, too. With Grams gone, staying at the bank had only been an exercise in misery. She started searching for chef positions all over the city, quitting her job a few weeks ago when it began to interfere with job interviews. Allison was pretty confident about her chances of getting the open chef position at a nearby restaurant called Quake, but she was going to pull out all the stops with her audition recipe tomorrow.

“Well if you’re making that, then there’s no way you’re not getting that job,” Lydia responded firmly, squeezing her sister’s shoulder. “You’re an amazing chef and you’re finally going to get a chance to prove it.” Her expression turned sly as she gestured to the table behind her. “By the way, a certain someone sent you gift. What do you think? Chocolate? Flowers? Wine?”

Allison chuckled as she opened up the box waiting for her. “Port!”

“Matt sent you port?” Lydia asked, brow wrinkled. “That’s…romantic?”

“It’s the last thing I needed for my audition recipe and the perfect vintage. He always knows just what to get me.” Allison beamed, turning the bottle over in her hands. Lydia smiled in amusement at her sister and moved towards the kitchen, Allison trailing behind her.

“So I’ve been thinking that we should rent out that extra room. Maybe lower the rent a bit in exchange for some help around the house? We can’t keep paying people to come fix things; it’s an old house,” the redhead declared. 

Allison fidgeted slightly with the port. “You know, Stiles is pretty good with a wrench.”

“Stiles is pretty lousy with a wrench, actually. And he’s in New York,” Lydia responded brusquely. She really didn’t want to think about him. About how he was so smart and full of life, but so damn careless about everything. About what Jackson had told her. About how he abandoned them when they—when Allison needed him most. About her little brother alone in a big city with a high crime rate living paycheck to paycheck just to get away from her. Whatever, she just wasn’t going to think about it.

“Yeah, about that,” Allison started, nervously. The sound of the front door banging open interrupted her sentence, setting Lydia off toward the Manor entrance once more, with Allison following.

“Found the hide-a-key,” Stiles beamed at his two older sisters. “Under the doormat, like always. Some things never change around here.” He stopped for a moment to actually look at them. It had been six months since he had seen Allison and Lydia, since he had been in his childhood home. Allison looked older, at least in her eyes. Stiles felt a stab of guilt, remembering how close she was to Grams and how hard losing her had been for the middle Stilinski sibling. 

Lydia looked as impeccable as ever, despite the weather. Her vibrant red hair was styled into an intricate bun that likely only took her a minute to pin into place, yet looked perfect. A sensible, black blazer worn over a fashionable forest green dress meant she must have only recently gotten home from work. And, of course, the dumbfounded expression meant she had no idea he was coming home today. Well, at least Allison’s panicked look made sense now. Perfect.

“Stiles,” Lydia said. He waited a bit for her to finish that sentence, exchanging a nervous look with Allison when the silence stretched on. Suddenly a honk from outside broke the stillness of the room.

“Oh, that’s my cab! Um, I’m kinda out of cash right now, can you get it?” Stiles sheepishly asked Allison. 

“No problem!” Allison said, practically running outside to get away from her siblings. Maybe this time she could avoid being put in the middle of their fight.

“How long are you staying?” Lydia asked stiffly, as her sister rushed out of the house.

“I don’t know. Permanently, I guess? At least until I figure things out,” Stiles responded, running a hand through his hair. That was new, Lydia absently noted to herself, wondering if he grew out his buzzcut due to choice or laziness. 

“And that’s all you brought?” Lydia gestured to the duffle bag at his feet.

“That’s all I own. Well, that and a bike.” Stiles smiled tightly.

Lydia regarded him imperiously for a moment before spitting out, “We’re not selling the house. And we don’t have the money to pay off whatever debts you have.”

Stiles gaped, “What? I’m not here for money. Or to sell the house. I just—I wanted to come home.” He looked away from his sister; he didn’t need to see her look at him like he was a failure again. He got that look enough growing up. 

Allison chose that moment to return, breaking their tense silence. “Who wants dinner? Stiles, I can make your favorite!” 

“Not hungry,” Lydia inputted, storming away.

“Thanks, but I ate on the bus,” Stiles answered, already heading upstairs to his room.

“That went well,” Allison muttered to the empty foyer.

X

In another part of town, a woman lit three white candles with nothing but her finger and a thought. Arranging them just so on her altar, she lowered herself to the floor and began to chant as her mother had shown her so many years ago. She spoke slowly and reverently in Latin, asking for peace, focus, strength, and guidance. The woman was so involved with her nightly rite that she almost didn’t hear the movement behind her or her cat hissing at something. She rose and whirled around.

“Damn it, you scared me!” she admonished the handsome man in front of her. “You know better to sneak up on me while I’m doing magic!”

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist,” the man said with a chuckle. “Let me make up for it.” As he drew her in for a kiss, the woman considered resisting, making him work a little more for her forgiveness, before giving in. 

“Better?” he asked, as the lovers pulled apart.

“I think you need to work a little bit harder than that,” the blonde said with a little smirk. 

“Of course,” her paramour responded, pulling her closer. He stroked her cheek and smiled lovingly at her as he plunged a dagger into her chest. Her soft smile turned into a grimace of pain and she screamed as he twisted the blade. He continued to smile at her softly as he watched the life drain out of her eyes. Dropping her to the ground, the man smirked as he raised his hand and watched flames emit from his fingers. “Thanks for the new power, sweetheart.”


	2. Something Wiccan This Way Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I forgot to put this in the last chapter, here are the ages:
> 
> Lydia-27  
> Allison-24  
> Stiles-21
> 
> I went with their approximate ages from the first season of Charmed.

“Hey, that’s my boyfriend Matt!” Allison exclaimed, pointing at the small television in Stiles’ room. “He’s a reporter. He’s been working on this serial killer that’s been targeting women in the city.” Stiles frowned at that and looked at the TV to see a dark-haired man discussing the murder of a woman on the news.

“Hmm, well he’s definitely cute. How’d you two meet?” Stiles asked, biting into the sandwich Allison had brought him, despite his earlier claim of not being hungry. He smiled softly at seeing his sister truly happy for the first time that night. 

“He was visiting a friend at the hospital after Grams had her first heart attack. We met in the cafeteria. Talked a little. Flirted a lot. He gave me his number and we texted on and off, but we didn’t really start seeing each other until after Grams died,” Allison trailed off, brow furrowing. “Everything just seemed so hectic with Grams’ heart issues and Lydia’s wedding planning. He reached out a few days after the funeral and I just needed someone to talk to y’know? I didn’t actually think we’d get serious, but I really like him.” Allison blushed slightly, looking down at her hands. 

“He sounds like a nice guy,” Stiles responded with a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m glad you had someone.”

“You were grieving, too, Stiles. I don’t blame you for leaving,” Allison said softly, taking her brother’s hand in her own. He looked at her sadly. Of course Allison wouldn’t blame him. She was too forgiving for her own good sometimes. He guessed Lydia more than made up for their sister’s easy nature. 

Stiles shook his head. “I should’ve at least waited a few more days. Or talked to you more while I was gone. I was an asshole.” Stiles sighed and looked away. He had his reasons for leaving and he still stood by them, but damn did seeing Allison hurting make him question his every action. After Grams died, it felt like there was nothing tying him to San Francisco. And with things so tense with Lydia, leaving seemed like the right thing to do. He had wanted to forge his own path, but New York City had swallowed him up and spit him back out.

A knock on the door shook Stiles out of his reverie. “Come in,” he called out.

Lydia entered, carrying some thick blankets. “Your room was always the coldest in the house, so…” she trailed off as she set down the blankets on his bed.

“Thanks.”

Lydia nodded awkwardly and left. Allison looked over at Stiles, “She’s trying.”

“Probably doesn’t help that she didn’t even know I was coming back,” Stiles responded with raised eyebrows.

“Hey, you should’ve been the one to tell her that, not me. Being the middle child doesn’t mean you guys have to actually put me in the middle of everything, you know,” Allison retorted, crossing her arms. 

“I know, I know,” Stiles sighed. “It’s just hard to talk to her sometimes. Or maybe all the time. I feel like all she sees when she looks at me is the family screw-up and everything I say just adds to that impression. I just…I didn’t want to tell her that I failed. And I didn’t want to hear her tell me she didn’t want me to move back or lie and say that she did.”

“Come here,” Allison said, opening up her arms. Stiles scooted closer to be wrapped in her hug. “You’re not a screw-up, okay? Lydia doesn’t think that; she’s just…exacting. It’s who she is. And it doesn’t help that she basically gave up her childhood—”

“To help raise us, I know,” Stiles interrupted, rolling his eyes. 

“And you also know that she gave up on her dreams for us,” Allison added, sharply, pulling away from her brother. “You know she passed on that ride to MIT to help Grams take care of us. That was so hard for her. She used to want to go into some crazy smart field in math or science, remember? One that takes years of studying to get to and doesn’t make much money. But Grams needed help paying the mortgage and I was still in school, so she got an art history degree to get a museum job she never wanted. It wasn’t fair to her, but she did it. For us, for this family.”

Stiles was struck with guilt again. Being home again was going to give him an ulcer. “I’m sorry. I just…”

Allison softened again. “I know. And since I forgot to say it earlier: I’m glad you’re back, Stiles. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Ally.” And God has he. His sister had the biggest heart of anyone he knew and he certainly could have used someone like that in the city. 

“Now,” Allison said, looking a little mischievous. “I found Mom’s old Ouija board when I was clearing out the basement the other day. Care to ask the spirits a few questions?” Stiles’ answering smirk was enough to send the two downstairs giggling. 

X

“What was your question again?” Stiles called out at his sister returned to the kitchen to make some more popcorn.

“I asked if Lydia was gonna get laid this year,” Allison responded.

“Yeah, I so don’t want to think about that,” Stiles groaned, looking down at the Ouija board. He grimaced at the sound of Allison’s laughter floating in from the kitchen. Sometimes his sisters seemed to think that because he was gay he was another girlfriend that wants to hear all about their sex lives. He really doesn’t. Hmmm, but maybe if Lydia met another guy she’d let go of the Jackson debacle. And be in a better mood. He set the tips of his fingers on the Ouija board pointer, “Please say yes.” 

The board was a beautiful antique they had only caught glimpses of growing up. Stiles was only a year or so old when his mother died, but he had seen his grandmother bent over the board occasionally, always putting it away when one of the kids came in the room, presumably so they wouldn’t break it or spill something on it. On the back of the board, the phrase “The Power of Three will set you free” was inscribed, not that the Stilinski siblings had every figured out what it meant.

Suddenly the pointer jerked to the letter A, pulling his hand with it. Stiles gasped, tempted to pull his fingers away, but the pointer then jolted over to T.

“Allison, come here, it’s moving!” he yelled out to his sister. Two sets of footsteps headed his way.

“What are you yelling about?” Lydia asked, crossing her arms.

“The pointer, it moved by itself!” Stiles exclaimed.

Allison raised her eyebrows, “Did you push it?”

“He always used to push it,” Lydia reminded her sister.

“Hey, hello, right here! And I didn’t push it, it moved on its own!” Stiles snapped back. Lydia rolled her eyes and turned away. The pointer jerked down and back to T. “It did it again!”

Lydia turned back to the board, “It’s still at T.” 

“It moved, I swear,” Stiles pleaded, looking at Allison for backup.

She shrugged, “All I saw was you move it.” 

Stiles glared and let go of the pointer. “I am not doing this!” 

“Whatever, I’m going to bed. You two, keep it down,” Lydia ordered, leaving the room. As soon as she left the pointer swung to I, then to C. 

Allison’s eyes bugged out. “Lydia, come here!”

“What?” their older sister stomped back to the room.

“It moved! I—I saw it,” Allison stammered out. 

“Told ya,” Stiles muttered triumphantly.

“It was just a trick, Ally. You know how he is,” Lydia assured her, rolling her eyes. Of course, Stiles mused to himself, Lydia thought he was lying. She never believed him, even when it really mattered. Even when that douchebag Jackson had accused Stiles of trying to kiss him. Why would he expect anything more now?

“Well, seeing as our Ouija board just spontaneously spelled out “attic” I’m gonna head up there to check it out,” Stiles announced, standing up. 

“That attic’s been locked forever, there’s nothing important up there anyway,” Lydia retorted, condescendingly. “Besides—” A sudden clap of thunder coincided with the house being plunged into darkness. Stiles jumped; things were getting a little too horror movie-esque for his liking here. But still, something about all this sparked his interest. An impossible clue leading them to a mysterious location? Too cool to just ignore. 

He followed his sisters into the kitchen for the flashlights they kept in one of the cupboards. 

“Okay, let’s check the circuit breaker in the basement. One of you needs to come hold the flashlight,” Lydia said, turning her siblings. 

“Well, Allison can handle that if she wants. I’m headed to the attic,” Stiles responded.

“Seriously? Now’s not the time for your weird games, Stiles,” the redhead protested. “The attic door doesn’t even open!”

“Well it can’t hurt to try,” he shrugged, heading out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He walked up to the second floor and took a deep breath before going up the stairs to the attic. The room had always fascinated him as a child, but their Grams had repeatedly told them the door was stuck and there was nothing in there but old junk anyway. He had tried to get in, of course, so many times. Grams had caught Stiles trying to pick the lock more than once growing up before pulling him by his ear away from the door. His sisters never seemed to care as much about the old attic, never seemed as attracted to its mystery. But then, he always was a weird kid. 

Stiles tried opening the door, but just like always, it remained shut. He jimmied the handle and cursed under his breath. Sighing, he turned around. Lydia was right; why would the door suddenly be able to be opened now?

He heard a small click and felt a breeze of air behind him. Whirling around, Stiles gaped at the now open door. “No fucking way,” he whispered with glee. The brunet cautiously entered the dark room, eagerly looking around. Well, Grams was right about one thing: there was a lot of junk. 

The attic was somewhat large for its kind, with wooden floors covered in nice, though old, rugs. One wall contained a set of dusty windows with beautiful edging made of stained glass, facing the front lawn. An empty podium stood before the windows. Opposite to that wall was a set of similar windows, though the floor in front of them was littered with random objects and furniture.

Stiles’ attention was caught by a large trunk next to an ancient sofa. Some kind of light from outside seemed to shine through the windows straight on the trunk. Weird, Stiles absently noted.

He padded across the attic and opened the trunk. Inside were candles, cloths, and other miscellaneous items that Stiles ignored because on top of the pile was a large, dusty tome with some kind of Celtic symbol on it. Three interlocking rings surrounded by a circle. A triquetra, he thought, recalling that the familiar symbol had been inked onto the shoulder of one of his exes. 

He settled on the couch to check out the weird book and soon became absorbed with what he saw. The first page was titled The Book of Shadows. And the next, well, Stiles was starting to get the picture: magic. This was a book of magic. Was Grams really into that kind of stuff? Well, she sure did like to say anything was possible; maybe she had believed in magic.

After inspecting the first few pages of the book, Stiles returned to the first one with an incantation on it. It couldn’t be real, could it? Something inside him ached at the thought, and he couldn’t help reading aloud:

 _Hear now the words of the witches,_  
_The secrets we hid in the night._  
_The oldest of Gods are invoked here._  
_The great work of magic is sought._  
_In this night and in this hour,_  
_I call upon the Ancient Power._  
_Bring your powers to we siblings three._  
_We want the power. Give us the power._

Stiles furtively looked around, but nothing seemed different. He turned his head to the doorway, hearing his sisters coming up the stairs.

“How did you get the door open?” Lydia demanded as she and Allison entered the room.

“I didn’t do anything. It just opened on its own,” Stiles answered, standing up, clutching the book tightly to his chest. 

“Right,” Lydia responded, rolling her eyes. She shined the flashlight around the secret room and pursed her lips. “Are you satisfied with your big adventure now? It’s just a room filled with crap, like any other attic.”

“Oh you wouldn’t believe what I found!” Stiles gushed. He lay the Book open on the trunk. “If we’re ever gonna do this, I think now’s the time.”

“Do what?” Allison questioned warily as Lydia perused the open tome. 

“Receive our powers,” Stiles said, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Our powers?” Allison’s eyebrows shot straight up.

“It’s a book of spells,” Lydia announced. “You can’t seriously believe in this stuff, Stiles.”

“Guys, it makes sense!” Stiles protested. “The Book talks about this amazingly powerful witch named Melinda Warren. She was burned at the stake in Salem for her powers, but before she died she prophesied that her bloodline would grow in power until it culminated in the arrival of three siblings. The Charmed Ones, a strong force of good magic dedicated to protecting the innocent and destroying evil. And last I counted, there were three of us.”

“Just because some _fictional_ magic book told a story doesn’t mean it’s about us, Stiles. Now please tell me you haven’t been messing with spells.” Lydia shifted impatiently. 

Stiles bristled at her condescending tone. “I’m not stupid, Lydia, it all adds up. The Ouija board, the door unlocking on its own after all this time, and now this? It makes sense.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Lydia huffed.

“Well, we’ll see what happens now when we get our powers,” Stiles huffed right back, crossing his arms. Lydia’s judgment had him second guessing himself, but it just made sense to him. The idea of magic felt right. And totally awesome.

“Our powers?” Allison queried incredulously. “Stiles, c’mon.”

“Hey, I just read the spell. If there’s no such thing as magic, then nothing will come of it. And if there is, then we’re just getting our rightful inheritance,” Stiles shrugged.

“Okay, ignoring the whole magic thing, you decided to involve us in this?” Allison questioned.

“It has to be the three of us,” Stiles stated stubbornly. “The prophecy said so. And the spell was about all of us, anyway.”

“The prophecy said so,” Lydia deadpanned. “Okay, well, I’m going to sleep. We got the power back on, by the way. While you were playing with your magic book.” With that, the eldest sister swept imperiously out of the room.

“C’mon, Allison, you saw the pointer move by itself. You know this is real,” Stiles wheedled.

“I don’t know what I saw,” Allison sighed. “We should just go to bed. This has been a weird night.” 

Stiles watched his sister leave the attic before settling back on the couch with the Book. He had some reading to do.

X

Lydia was on her way to work before Stiles even got up the next morning. She passed Allison coming down the stairs on her way out and ignored her younger sister’s disappointed frown as she booked it out of the house. She just didn’t want to see her brother after the shit he pulled last night. He hadn’t even been back a full day yet and he was already starting drama. Granted, trying to get them to believe in magic was a new one, but Stiles had always been the creative type. Lydia had hoped that New York would have matured him a bit more, but apparently not.

As she entered her office and set her coffee down, Lydia took a deep breath and mentally vowed to forget all the weird stuff going on with Stiles right now and just focus on work. After weeks of back and forth with the Martin estate, she was finally going to get recognized for her role in the acquisition of some priceless artifacts for the museum. Lydia mused on the chances of this getting her a raise or even a promotion. The extra money certainly couldn’t hurt. 

And a promotion could put her on equal professional footing with Jackson, which might help ease the awkwardness left in the midst of their breakup. Somehow, knowing that sleeping with your boss can royally fuck up your life didn’t stop Lydia from doing just that. Maybe she wasn’t as smart as she thought.

“Lydia, you’re in bright and early,” Jackson beamed as he strode in her office without even knocking. Prick.

“Good morning, Jackson,” Lydia responded, smoothly, hiding her ire. “I was just about to come see you about the Martin acquisition. Their lawyer said that—”

“Yeah, about that,” Jackson interrupted, his handsome face taking on an apologetic grimace. “You’ve done a great job with the Martins, but now that the details are really coming together, the higher ups have decided to hand the acquisition over to someone with more experience. I’m sorry, Lydia, I tried to fight for you, but they just wouldn’t budge on it.”

“And by someone with more experience, I don’t suppose they meant you?” Lydia arched an eyebrow at her ex.

“Well, I thought that if you had to lose the account to anyone it should be me. After all, I really value your work on it,” her boss said with a charming smile. Lydia took a moment to look at the man she almost married. The sharp cheekbones, beautiful eyes, and wicked smile drew many women in, but Lydia had cared more about his intelligence and drive. His ambition. His willingness to do whatever it takes for success. Even throw her under the bus, apparently.

“Are you serious right now? We wouldn’t even have the Martin artifacts if it weren’t for me! I put in hours of work researching them, negotiating with their lawyer, and dealing with the authentication,” Lydia fumed.

“Hey, hey,” Jackson soothed, holding up his hands in a placating manor. “ _I_ know that. It’s just that they don’t. But it’s fine, Lyds, I’ll include you every step of the way! This account is good for my career, which certainly means it’s good for yours.”

“Don’t patronize me, Jackson,” Lydia responded icily. 

“I’d be a little more careful about how you speak to your boss,” Jackson sneered slightly.

“I’m sorry, it’s a little hard to know when I’m speaking to my boss and when I’m speaking to the guy whose ego got wounded when I dumped him,” Lydia retorted. 

Jackson’s face hardened. “I’ll do you a favor and forget about this whole conversation. Have the Martin contracts on my desk by noon.” 

As the man stormed toward the door, Lydia’s hands squeezed in anger. Suddenly, the pen in his breast pocket exploded, sending ink all over his face and staining his shirt. She quickly turned toward her desk to hide her surprised smirk as Jackson spluttered his way out of her office. 

Lydia sat down heavily in her chair. She needed to get the Martin papers together. For Jackson to take over and take credit for all her hard work. She wondered for a moment if it would have been different if they had gotten married; if he would have helped her career instead of stealing this account. Lydia shook her head; she had obviously made the right choice in ending things before they could make it down the aisle. 

With this in mind, Lydia methodically began to gather the appropriate paperwork on the Martin case, and then proceeded to pack up her office. She was done here.

Marching down the hall to Jackson’s office, she stopped just outside his open door when she heard him on the phone.

“I really did put in the hours on this one. The Martin collection was a tough one, but I played a key role in acquiring it and I have no doubt I can lead this project. Thank you again for the opportunity,” Jackson oozed. As Lydia stepped into his office, he hurriedly said his goodbyes and hung up. “Just keeping the bosses happy, y’know?”

“Oh I’m sure they’ll be very happy with your work, Jackson. Especially without me around to do it for you. I left the Martin contracts on my desk, along with the hours of audio recordings of my research on the collection. Have fun, I quit,” Lydia declared, eyes narrowing in vindictive pleasure at the sight of Jackson’s normally exquisite face slack jawed.

“You can’t be serious. Don’t throw away your career because of your pride, Lydia,” Jackson thundered, rising from his desk.

“Oh I’m very serious. What career could I possibly have here anyway? You’re as lousy a boss as you are in bed,” the redhead retorted. 

Jackson’s face turned red. “I am going to _destroy_ your name in this town! You won’t be able to get another job. Then, you’ll come back to me, begging for your spot back. And we’ll see if I can muster up any sympathy. Maybe if you ask real nicely, on your knees.” 

Lydia turned around and marched out of the office before she throttled him. She had to get out of here. On her way to the elevator, she got a phone call.

“Miss Lydia Stilinski, I’m calling from San Francisco Memorial. Your brother’s been in a minor accident.”

X

“C’mon Stiles, pick up, pick up,” Allison muttered, jiggling in place impatiently. The brunette was standing near the entrance to Quake, the restaurant she was now a chef for. Yay. Too bad she apparently had some fucking magical power, courtesy of her little brother reading a spell. Even in her head it sounded insane. The new witch groaned as the phone went to voicemail. She considered leaving a message before deciding this was too big for a phone call anyway. She’d better head home.

Heading toward the street to hail a taxi since her car was in the shop, Allison nearly screamed when a hand clamped down on her shoulder, before whirling around to see her smiling boyfriend. Okay, so she was a little jumpy. She’d just found out she was a witch, sue her.

“Hey, how’d your interview go?” Matt asked sweetly. 

“What? Oh, it went well, I got the job,” Allison responded, heartbeat just starting to stabilize again.

“I knew you would,” Matt assured her. “I thought I’d meet you for an early congratulatory dinner, what do you think?”

“I should probably be getting home actually.” Allison thought back to how she had panicked in the kitchen when the head chef was about to try her food before she had been able to add the most important ingredient: the port. Just as he was lifting a forkful of pasta to his mouth, he just froze. Well, Allison supposed she _had_ made some sort of aborted gesture to stop him. Maybe that triggered it? Regardless, she had somehow managed to stop time and add the port to the food before he ate it, resulting in the new job. 

“Ah, c’mon, just let me buy the prettiest chef in the world dinner,” Matt cooed. “Make my dreams come true.” Allison rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s antics, but relaxed a bit at the familiarity. 

“Fine,” she said, a bit reluctantly. While part of her wanted to run home, lock all the doors, and hide until she figured out what was going on with her, the stronger part didn’t want to let this magic thing win. It was still her life and her sweet, amazing boyfriend wanted to take her out to celebrate her new job. She can hold on to that bit of normality for a little longer at least.

X

“I’m looking for Przemysław Stilinski; a nurse told me I could find him on this floor,” Lydia told the woman at the main desk of the third floor of the hospital. 

“He’ll be with the doctor for a few more minutes, ma’am,” the nurse politely responded after checking her computer.

“Thanks,” the redhead said with relief. She knew Stiles was okay, but the sooner she saw him for herself the better. Less than 24 hours back home and he’d already landed himself in the hospital. Of course.

“Lydia?” asked the man who had been standing near the desk, obviously waiting for someone.

“Jordan,” she breathed out, taking in the form of her high school sweetheart. “I thought you were still in Portland.” He looked older, of course. It had been almost a decade, she had to remind herself, taking in the changes. He was still sandy-haired and lean, but he was more muscled now and his face firmer, with all traces of baby fat gone. He looked good.

“I moved back not too long ago. I’m an inspector with the SFPD. Any other city and I’d be called a detective,” Jordan said with a shrug. “Anyway, I’m just checking up on a lead with a doctor here.”

“Oh, Stiles was in a little accident. Nothing serious,” Lydia assured. “Mostly just fell off his bike and hurt his arm. I’m just waiting for him to finish up and get his prescription.”

“Well, since my doctor and your brother are busy, can I get you a cup of shitty hospital coffee?” He smiled at her and Lydia felt young again. She nodded and the two moved over to the coffee machine in the waiting room.

“Inspector Jordan Parrish,” she mused aloud. “I like it; it’s classy.”

Jordan laughed and damn it if that didn’t bring back memories. “How’ve you been? Still at the museum? I’m sorry I wasn’t here when your Grams passed. She was a great lady.”

“She always liked you. Well, maybe not so much after prom,” Lydia teased, accepting the cup of coffee he offered her. “I’m doing okay. I actually just quit my job and have no idea what to do next. Which is fun.”

“Wow that sounds nothing like the Lydia Stilinski I remember. What does your fiancé think? Jackson, right?” Jordan asked, faux-casual.

“We broke up, actually,” Lydia answered, watching his reaction carefully. “Since you don’t look very surprised, I’m gonna go ahead and assume you’ve checked up on me through Facebook at the very least.”

Jordan blushed. “I’m a cop, it’s in my blood. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Lydia responded lightly. The two former lovers shared a smile before Jordan opened his mouth to say something. Of course, the nurse at the front desk chose that moment to inform Jordan that the doctor he was there to interview was ready for him.

“Looks like I gotta go. I’ll see you,” Jordan said with a look that showed he intended to keep that promise. Lydia smiled to herself as he walked away. Maybe this day wasn’t the absolute worst, after all.

A few minutes later her brother walked down the hall. “Hey, Lyds,” he greeted her. “Sorry you had to come pick me up, I really didn’t want to bother you at work.” 

“Well, I just quit my job, so you didn’t really disrupt anything,” she said, shrugging, discreetly examining her little brother. His arm was in a sling, but that was more to prevent pain and further strain than due to a serious injury. The nurse had told her that he was more scraped up than anything else.

Stiles gaped. “You just up and quit your job? Why Lydia, that sounds like something your irresponsible little brother would do.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, let’s just say working for Jackson became as unbearable as being engaged to him. You may have been right about him being an asshole and a liar.”

“Glad you caught on to that,” Stiles said, lightly. “Now, before this gets uncomfortable, let’s talk about how I got the premonitions, which means you either have telekinesis or the ability to freeze time, and I am so jealous.”

“Stiles,” Lydia began, furiously. Not this again.

“Hey, just hear me out!” Stiles demanded. “I was out riding my bike, minding my own business, when suddenly I get a vision of these two kids rollerblading down a street and getting hit by a car that didn’t see them. Next thing I know, I see those same kids going down a street and the same car coming toward them! I got them out of the path of the car in time, but fell off my bike. Which is super embarrassing, but at least those kids aren’t roadkill.” 

Lydia looked at her little brother, dumbfounded. He looked so damn earnest, like he really believed what he was saying. Her heart sank, “Stiles, I think you need to see the doctor again. Seeing things like that? That could be symptom of something seriously wrong with your brain. They should do an MRI or something.”

Stiles made a frustrated sound, “Lydia, I’m not hallucinating and I don’t have some brain disorder! We have magic, okay, we’re witches! I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true and you’re going to have to deal with it at some point.”

“Stiles, I am not witch. I don’t have magical powers. I’m just a normal woman that’s unemployed and apparently dealing with a brother with a very serious health issue!” Lydia bit out. Suddenly the chairs next to them in the waiting room toppled over. “Oh shit.”

X

Allison laughed at another of Matt’s terrible innuendos as they hailed a cab outside her favorite Chinese restaurant. As they climbed into the backseat, Matt told the driver to take them to some address that definitely wasn’t her house.

“And where do you think you’re taking me?” she asked playfully.

Matt smiled charmingly at her, “You’ve gotta see this place. I found it when I was working on a story and the view’s almost as beautiful as you.” 

The witch rolled her eyes, “Fine, but only if you lay it on a little less thick.”

“Hmm, I can try, but can you really blame me?” he asked, leaning in for a kiss.

It didn’t take too long to get to Matt’s little surprise, but Allison hesitated before exiting the taxi. “This place has the best view you’ve ever seen?” she asked incredulously. “It looks like a crack house. Or a serial killer’s lair. I’m not going in there.” Her lovely boyfriend apparently thought a derelict warehouse was a romantic place to go on a date.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Matt cajoled, taking her hand. “I’ve been here a million times; it looks scary, but there’s no one inside, I promise. And that view really is spectacular.”

Allison sighed. She supposed she did come all this way. “Fine,” she conceded, allowing her boyfriend to pull her by the hand into the building. She looked around nervously, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else around. “This view better be worth it.”

As the couple boarded the workman’s elevator, Matt reassured her, “Don’t worry it is. I bet you’ll gush about it to Lydia and Stiles when you get home.”

Allison’s brow furrowed as she slipped her hand out of his. “I didn’t tell you Stiles was back. How did you know?” 

The easy grin slipped off Matt’s face before he shrugged, “I guess here’s as good a place as any.” Allison jolted back as the brunet pulled out a dagger.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled. 

“What I’ve been waiting to do since your Grams ended up in the hospital,” Matt answered, with a sneer. “I knew as soon as she died you’d get your powers back. But then Stiles had to go and fuck everything up by leaving. I had to wait six damn months, but it wasn’t so bad. At least I got to fuck one of the Charmed Ones before I get all three of your powers. You had no idea I was anything other than your sweet little boyfriend, did you? God, it was hilarious.”

“You killed them, didn’t you? All those other women?” Allison asked, quietly, eyes darting around for an escape route. Luckily, they hadn’t turned the elevator on yet, so it was stationary, but Matt was blocking the entrance.

“All those other _witches_ ,” he corrected, flicking his fingers out to show flames emitting from each tip. He suddenly lunged forward with the dagger. Allison threw her hands up, preparing to defend herself, when Matt was suddenly frozen. 

Allison wasted no time running around him to leave the warehouse. Unfortunately, her freezing power didn’t seem to last long because she heard him coming after her before she made it out. Instead of trying to outrun him, she picked up an abandoned plank from a nearby pile and waited behind a pillar. Hearing him coming, she spun out of hiding and slammed the piece of wood over his head, knocking him out cold. Breathing heavily, Allison looked down at her unconscious not-so-human definite ex. She had to get home.

X

“You know, chamomile tea is probably better for your headache than aspirin, anyway,” Stiles commented, clutching his newly filled prescription as the two siblings searched for a headache cure at the pharmacy.

“I think I’m gonna need something a little bit stronger than _tea_ to deal with this headache, Stiles,” Lydia gritted out, striding down an aisle. “Where is the damn aspirin?” A few random boxes of cold medicine flew off the shelves. “Shit.”

“Hmm, I think anger is your trigger. Shouldn’t be a problem for you,” Stiles snorted. 

“What are you talking about?” Lydia asked icily, picking up the boxes.

“You have lots of repressed anger in you, my sister,” Stiles mused. “Hmm, what button should I push? What about Jackson? He told you I came on to him, remember? And you believed him, you chose him over me. Then you found out he was a scumbag and dumped him. Doesn’t that make you mad?” As he spoke, more boxes of medicine flew off the shelves.

Lydia took a deep breath. “Stop it,” she said lowly to Stiles, in warning. 

“No,” he replied, simply. “Why don’t we talk about what you’re really mad at me for? I left. I left you and Allison after Grams died and you hated me for it because I became just another person that left you. And you’re especially mad because I went to New York to find Dad and you just couldn’t stand that. You are so angry at Dad for leaving, but you never let yourself think about it, about him. Well, think about him. Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad.”

Lydia couldn’t help it, she saw red and all the boxes on the shelves came tumbling out. She indulged for a minute before reminding herself, don’t think about him; don’t give that son of a bitch the satisfaction of affecting your life still. She let out a shaky breath as she reined in her emotions.

“You okay?” Stiles asked, sympathetically, ignoring the various pharmacy workers headed their way.

“No,” Lydia answered honestly. “But my headache’s gone. We should probably go.” The two siblings quickly left the pharmacy to avoid explaining what had happened.

“So, there’s more,” Stiles began, as the two walked down the street.

“More than the fact that magic is real and we’re witches?” Lydia queried incredulously. “Isn’t that enough for one day?”

“Well, the Book of Shadows said that the awakening of our powers might bring some dark magic our way,” Stiles explained with a wince. “As in demons and warlocks and the like? Apparently it’s the Charmed Ones’ duty to fight evil. Which is kinda cool.”

“More like kinda dangerous,” Lydia shot back. “I can’t believe you got us into this.”

“Hey, I didn’t get us into this!” Stiles responded. “This was something we inherited. It’s part of who we are.”

“We didn’t have powers our entire lives and we were just fine, Stiles,” she reminded her brother. 

“No, we weren’t. We just didn’t know any better,” the younger Stilinski said softly. “Like it or not, Lyds, this is who we are. This is probably who Grams was. Who Mom was.”

“Yeah, well, Mom died pretty young, so that’s not exactly comforting,” Lydia snapped. Stiles looked away, hurt spilling across his features. The redhead sighed, “Look, let’s just go home. We need to talk to Allison about all this anyway.”

X

Lydia had barely surmised that Allison wasn’t home when the front door flew open. “Lydia? Stiles?” the panicked voice of her little sister floated through the house. Lydia immediately moved from her place in the sunroom to meet her sister. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” Stiles demanded, also entering the foyer. Lydia looked Allison over; she seemed unhurt, just shaky. She moved to put her arm around the younger woman.

“Matt, he’s not human. He’s the person killing all those woman. He took their powers and now he wants ours,” Allison explained in a rush. “Lydia, I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“No, I’m a believer, too, now,” Lydia interrupted. “I’m telekinetic.” 

Allison let out a disbelieving laugh. “Great, we’re all witches. Now, there’s a psycho on his way to murder us, does you magic book say anything about that?”

“Yeah, warlocks are basically evil witches. They kill good witches to steal their powers, I think there’s a way to vanquish him in the Book,” Stiles responded, heading up the stairs and returning a minute later with the tome in hand.

“You want to murder Matt?” Allison asked flatly, eyebrows raised.

“He’s a serial killer,” her brother reminded her. “And he’s not human. So it’s less like murder and more like vanquishing evil. It’s what witches do.”

“How would you know that? We’ve been witches for a day,” Lydia retorted, as Stiles set the Book on the foyer table. She felt uneasy about the idea of vanquishing Matt. He certainly looked human.

Stiles flipped through the Book hurriedly. “Got it, a spell to kill a warlock.”

“Okay, still not down with the whole killing thing. We should get out of here, he’s probably on his way here right now.” Allison peered out the window for a sign of the warlock. 

“What do you want to do, call the cops?” Stiles shot back. “I don’t think they’d believe a warlock was after us and he’s not just gonna stop if we hide.” 

“We’ll take the Book and get a hotel room for the night,” Lydia decided. “We should be safe there until we figure out what we’re going to do.”

“Or we can put an end to all this right now,” Stiles argued, gesturing at the Book. 

“Stiles—” Lydia was interrupted by the front door banging open. 

“Shit,” Allison whispered, taking in the sight of the enraged warlock sporting a decent gash on his temple. 

“Time to die, witches,” Matt sneered, lunging forward, dagger in hand. Lydia squinted and he stumbled back a couple of steps. The siblings scurried back toward the stairs.

“Go,” Lydia ordered. “I’ll hold him off.” She managed to push Matt back repeatedly, but only a few steps each time and he was getting closer to the trio.

“You’re not strong enough to stop me,” Matt bit out, trying to get closer to the witches. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Lydia,” Allison began. 

“Go!” Lydia told her vehemently. Allison grabbed Stiles by the hand, and the two younger siblings ran upstairs toward the attic. Lydia squinted her eyes once more, this time with a new idea in mind. A chair from the dining room flew at Matt, sending him sprawling to the ground. Taking her chance, the redhead followed her brother and sister up the stairs. Once all three witches made it to the attic, they started putting old furniture in front of the door to act as a blockade.

“Okay, so how do you vanquish a warlock?” Allison turned to her brother as the sound of footsteps pounding on stairs got closer.

“I don’t know,” Stiles wailed. “It involved candles and a poppet, but the Book’s downstairs and I don’t think we have the time anyway.”

“Okay, okay, just think about it. You read more of the Book than us, is there anything you remember that can help us?” Lydia asked desperately.

Stiles frantically shook his head. “Can’t you freeze him, Ally?”

“I did at the warehouse, but it didn’t even last a minute. It won’t stop him,” Allison responded. Matt started banging on the door from outside.

“You’re too new to the craft to beat me,” Matt laughed. “Did you really think that table would stop me?” As he spoke, the table against the door flew across the attic. “Or that chair?” Said chair slid away on its own. “Really, now, you have to know this is the end for you.” One by one, the remaining furniture blocking the door moved away. Lydia stood protectively in front of her siblings, and the trio backed away from the attic door as it suddenly burst open.

Gone was the cute sweetheart Allison had been dating. The man in front of them now was laughing maniacally, his voice unnaturally deepened into something certainly not-human.

Allison raised her hands to freeze the warlock, but he was faster in shooting flames at the Stilinskis’ feet. A circle of fire suddenly surrounded them.

“My powers won’t work,” Allison told her siblings in despair. “Lydia?” The older witch tried moving the flames or the warlock, but something about the magical fire must have been blocking her power.

“I told you you’re not strong enough. But your powers will make me even stronger,” Matt boasted. “And the Power of Three will belong to evil.”

“The Power of Three,” Lydia muttered. 

“It’s a spell,” Stiles realized, looking to his older sister. 

“What?” Allison asked, frantically. 

“The inscription on the board,” Lydia filled in the middle sibling. “Just say it.” The trio of witches grasped hands and began to chant “The Power of Three will set us free” repeatedly. Matt growled in anger, trying to throw flames at the witches, but something was protecting them. Something kept the ring of fire around them from tightening further and kept them safe from the warlock’s attacks.

A visible shudder ran through Matt’s body as a sudden wind seem to pick up in the room. It’s working, Lydia thought, it’s actually fucking working. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Matt gasped out as the witches continued to chant. “There will be others. Now that you’re awake, they’ll kill you!” With those last words, Matt, for lack of a better explanation, exploded, leaving no trace of his presence. The ring of fire encircling the witches and the strong wind died just as suddenly. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathed out into the suddenly still and silent attic with wide eyes.

“We killed him,” Allison added faintly, looking at the spot Matt used to stand.

“He was a warlock,” Lydia reminded her siblings firmly. “He was going to kill us. And apparently, others of his kind want to, as well.” 

“Sorry,” Stiles said with a grimace.

“Mom left us that spell. She knew this was going to happen, that we’d get our powers one day,” Allison contemplated. 

Lydia sighed. “We’re witches. It’s our…destiny.” As ridiculous as that sounded.

X

The next morning, the doorbell interrupted the first breakfast the Stilinski siblings had shared together in months. 

“Well, if they’re ringing the bell, it’s probably not another warlock,” Stiles quipped. Lydia rolled her eyes and moved to answer the door.

“Jordan?” She hadn’t expected to see him so soon. The sandy-haired inspector stood on her porch in his work suit, carrying a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” he responded, seeming a bit nervous. “I hope I didn’t bother you, I just wanted to make up for that horrible coffee I bought you yesterday.”

“By bringing me a cup of good coffee?” the redhead guessed.

“Oh, uh, no, this one’s for me,” the inspector responded sheepishly. “I was actually hoping to make up for it with dinner. Tomorrow night?”

Lydia studied the man before her. Despite the years that had passed since she’d last seen him, he still had that youthful earnestness in his eyes. She thought back to last night, to vanquishing that warlock. Could she really go on a date like everything was normal? The hope in his eyes decided it for her. “That sounds nice.” The two exchanged numbers and the witch watched Jordan leave with a pleased smile. Closing the door and turning around, she caught her brother scampering out of sight. 

“Eavesdropping? Really?” she asked, unimpressed. Stiles and Allison popped out from the living room.

“We heard a man’s voice, got curious.” Stiles shrugged. 

“I didn’t know Jordan was back in town. Hoping to pick things up where you left off?” Allison asked, eyes twinkling.

“I don’t know. It’s been years. And we’re witches now, which isn’t exactly something I can tell him. But one date couldn’t hurt right?” 

“Well you can definitely use some fun in your life,” Stiles said with a snort.

“Let’s see if we’ll even have time for fun with all the work we have to do,” Lydia said, eyes narrowed at her brother.

“Work?” Allison piped up. “You two are unemployed. I’m the only one working around here.”

“If there are evil forces coming after us now, then we all have a lot of catching up to do. Matt was right; our powers weren’t strong enough to stop him. We’re lucky Mom left us that spell or we would be dead right now. But we can’t depend on luck,” Lydia explained. “Starting now, we’re going into hardcore study mode. We all need to read through the Book of Shadows. I know we can’t exactly memorize it, but we need to be familiar with what’s in it. And we also need to practice magic, both our individual powers and whatever else we can do. We have to be prepared for anything.”

“Only you could turn being a witch into a homework assignment,” Stiles groaned.

“No, she’s right,” Allison affirmed. “We need to be ready for the next warlock or demon. Which means working on our magic and our fighting.”

“Allison, I know that you were queen of martial arts growing up, but in case you don’t remember, Lydia never took classes and I royally sucked at it,” Stiles reminded his sister.

“Sorry, Stiles, but you have the most passive power, so you definitely need to work on your fighting,” Lydia decided. “If a demon attacked you while you were alone, you’d be defenseless. If we’re doing this witch thing, we’re doing it right.”

Lydia looked to her sister, who nodded in agreement, before the two turned back to Stiles, arms crossing in unison. “Fine, fine. I hate it when you two agree,” he glowered. He could be as dissatisfied as he wanted, Lydia thought, she wasn’t going to let her little brother get himself killed because he thought being a witch was supposed to be fun.

X

Inspector Jordan Parrish drove away from the Stilinski Manor, grinning giddily over the idea of a date with Lydia. It had been years, but seeing her again in the hospital brought back all those old feelings. She had been the most important person in his life at one point, but his going away to college had ended their relationship, as often happens with teenagers.

But they weren’t teenagers anymore, he reminded himself, they had a shot at this. It would be interesting to see how they would fit together after almost ten years apart, if they could be something again. 

Turning his mind back to work, Jordan thought over the case that had been plaguing him for months. Four dead women. Each stabbed to death with a ceremonial dagger called an athame, a tool often used by Wiccans and other people that practiced magic. Or at least, people that believed they practiced magic. Jordan didn’t necessarily believe in magic, but he knew there were people out there that did and evidence found at each of the victims’ homes showed that they were likely practicing witches. 

Not that he could say too much of this in front of other cops. His own partner thought he was a little off when he started putting the witch-killer theory on the table. Jordan sighed, time to get back to the case. He needed to catch this monster before another woman lost her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am horrible at room descriptions, so here's what the attic looks like:
> 
> http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/8500000/manor-the-attic-and-basement-piper-halliwell-8508783-512-384.jpg  
> http://1cqgxm3l59yi2wwbnn3qy35h.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Charmed-Halliwell-Manor-attic.jpg
> 
> So next chapter's gonna kick off some interesting changes. I'm skipping the Javna episode and heading straight into the dad drama.


	3. Time For A Reunion

“So what do you think of Krav Maga?” Lydia mused, scrolling through a page about the topic on her phone.

Stiles groaned, thunking his head on the kitchen table. “I think kickboxing is keeping me sore enough, thank you very much.” 

“It’s only been a few weeks, Stiles. Your body will adjust,” Lydia dismissed, continuing to read about the Israeli self-defense program. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be starting your new job today? It’s already ten. Even Allison’s left for work and Quake doesn’t open til lunch.”

“I’m not supposed to be in until noon today because the boss has a meeting in the morning and wants to catch me up on tomorrow’s auction himself,” Lydia explained, finally putting her phone down. “And stop dodging. You agreed to training.”

“Yeah, training. Not killing myself by overdoing it,” Stiles retorted. “And besides, we’ve officially got two baddies under our belt with no Krav Maga to speak of. Do demons even fight?”

“Do I have to remind you that Allison and I had to come rescue you from a youth-sucking demon just last week? We almost didn’t make it in time to save you; now’s not the time to be getting cocky.” Lydia pursed her lips at her brother’s reckless attitude. They had barely survived Matt and Javna; they needed to nab any extra advantage they could. “But I suppose Krav Maga can wait until you’ve built up some muscle and endurance.” Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles’ triumphant fist pump just as her phone chimed with the arrival of a text message. 

“Is that the boyfrieeeend?” Stiles teased. 

Lydia rolled her eyes and responded to Jordan’s text. “And here I thought you graduated high school.”

“Hey, your poor brother hasn’t had a date in ages, let me live vicariously through you. Remind me there is such a thing as romance in this cruel, cruel world. Just skip the icky bits.”

Lydia stared at her brother. “Have you always been this dramatic?” Stiles batted his lashes. The redhead sighed and decided to throw him a bone. “We’re taking things slowly, I guess. Getting to know each other again. It’s actually been really nice. Comfortable, but still new and exciting.” It didn’t hurt that the two were still extremely attracted to each other. Going slow would only last so long.

“Aw, you’re gushing.” Stiles grinned at her.

Lydia wrinkled her nose at her brother. “And on that note, I’m heading out early. Jordan wants to grab coffee before I have to go to work. Don’t forget to run the dishwasher and head to the grocery store; the list is on the fridge.”

“Ugh fine, leave me to my chores. Have fun at the ball, Drizella,” the brunet retorted. Lydia barked out a laugh before sweeping out of the Manor.

X

“So I’ll just leave you to it, then?” At Lydia’s nod, her new boss left her alone in her office. Well, at least she knew she wouldn’t sleep with this boss; Adrian Harris was nice, but definitely not her type. 

She had barely begun her job search when Harris’ Auctions reached out to _her_ for an interview. Normally, that would scream scam, especially with Jackson out there spreading rumors about her, but Harris’ was a reputed auctioning firm that she had worked with in the past. Her interview went well, and Harris explained that he had recently inherited the business from an uncle and was eager to revitalize the company. Hence, the slightly overeager interview invitation. One grueling quiz later on various artifacts up for auction and Lydia got a very nice job offer. It paid more than the museum and she got a lot more freedom with her work, so she considered it a win. 

Settling down to familiarize herself with the upcoming auction items, Lydia quickly lost track of time. Before she knew it, it was four-thirty and almost time for her to leave. A knock on her open office door shook her out of her thoughts.

The man at the door was older, maybe around fifty, but still handsome. His blue eyes were striking and seemed to be looking at her intently. Something about him tugged at her memory; he looked like someone she knew, but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. “Hi, I know it’s late, but I was wondering if you could appraise something for me.”

“We actually have an appraiser on the fourth floor who is much better qualified for that,” she responded politely. 

“Yeah, I asked him to take a look at it, but he said it would take a few days and I just really don’t want to part with it,” the man said, sheepishly. “I’ve heard you’re good at what you do, so I was hoping for your opinion.”

Lydia stared at the man. Was this some kind of prank on the new girl in the office? How would he have even heard about her? It was her first day at work. Mulling it over, she decided it was better not to offend this unknown man. Maybe he got special perks for being a friend to the boss or something. The last thing she needed was to lose this job. “Well, I’ll certainly try.”

“Thank you.” The man walked to her desk and handed her a beautiful golden ring with small emeralds embedded in it.

Lydia’s blood ran cold as she stared at the ring in her hands. “Get out,” she said sharply, rising from her chair.

“Lydia—”

“I don’t know how you found me or why you’re here, but get out before I get security to _throw_ you out,” she hissed, shoving the ring back in his hands. After all these years, she couldn’t believe he had the fucking nerve to show up here.

He sighed. “You always were a stubborn girl. Maybe I should’ve gone to see Allison or Przemysław instead.”

“Don’t talk to me like you know anything about me and don’t you _dare_ go near them.” Lydia shook with rage, and the standing lamp in the corner of the room suddenly crashed to the ground. Her eyes widened slightly as she tried to rein in her errant magic.

The man raised an eyebrow at the lamp. “It’s been falling over all day. I need to get it fixed,” she bit out hastily. “Now get out and stay out of all of our lives.”

“Lydia, I came to San Francisco to see you and your siblings,” the man began, only adding to her ire. “I’m staying at the Hyatt by the airport and I’d like to get dinner with the three of you tomorrow night at seven. I want to talk, explain things. Please.”

“I’ll pass along the message,” Lydia answered, coldly. “But I’m not spending any more time with you. Now leave.”

“I hope you change your mind; we have a lot to catch up on.” He smiled at her softly before putting his wedding ring back on and leaving her office. Once he was far enough away, the witch collapsed in her chair, heart beating rapidly. This couldn’t be happening. It had been twenty-one years since she’d seen Chris Argent. After he left, she had refused to even look at a photo of him; she wanted to erase him from her life completely.  
How sad was it that Lydia hadn’t even recognized him at first? That ring, though. She would never forget that ring; she used to admire the matching one on her mother’s hand every day until the divorce. Then, the ring had disappeared like her—like that man. Despite its beauty, Lydia hoped her mom threw it into the Bay. 

X

“Wow.” Not that one word could really cover how dumbstruck Allison felt. “Are you going to tell Stiles?” She pulled out a bottle of cheap wine from the fridge; now seemed like a good time to indulge a bit, she thought, as she poured herself a glass.

“He’s an adult,” Lydia shrugged. “He deserves to know and to make his own choice about this.” Allison eyed her older sister; it was pretty clear what choice she wanted him to make.

“And if you don’t agree with said choice?” she asked, taking a sip. The last thing the oldest and youngest Stilinski needed was a re-opening of the rift Jackson had caused.

“Well, I’m an adult, too, which means I’ll suck it up,” Lydia responded, eyes narrowing.

“Really? You won’t needle him about it or start with the passive aggressiveness again?” the younger witch queried, a hint of a smile on her face. She heard the Manor front door open and footsteps head their way.

“I’m not passive aggressive!” Lydia exclaimed.

“Liar, liar, hair on fire,” Stiles responded, breezing into the kitchen.

“That stopped being cute after you turned six.” Lydia glared at her little brother. 

“How was kickboxing?” Allison tried changing the subject before the bickering could start.

“Good,” Stiles responded, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Got sweaty. Got my ass handed to me. Got a cute guy’s number.”

“How productive,” Lydia said wryly. 

“I like to think so,” Stiles responded cheerily, taking a swig of his water. “How was the first day at work?”

“Well, it went pretty great until I got an unexpected visitor,” Lydia began, frowning. “Chris stopped by. Wants to have dinner and catch up or something. As if.”

Stiles’ brow wrinkled in confusion. “Chris?” Then his jaw dropped, “Wait, Chris as in our dad? He’s here?” Allison took in his eager tone and the smile forming on his face with apprehension. She wasn’t nearly as angry at their dad as Lydia was, but she wasn’t ready to just forgive and forget yet either. Stiles, on the other hand, had always been fascinated with the idea of their dad. She didn’t want him to get his hopes up now.

“Yeah, and he thinks one dinner’s going to make up for twenty-one years of abandonment,” Lydia snorted. Stiles flinched. She had been very clear, growing up, what she thought of their father. Allison was three-and-a-half when he left, so she only had a couple hazy memories of him. Lydia, on the other hand, was closer to seven, so she remembered the exact day he had walked out the door never to return. Whereas she had turned all that hurt into anger, Allison preferred to cling to the few memories she had of her father with fondness. She was hurt that he left, of course, but she tried not to dwell on it. For her, the pain was more of an ache of disappointment or of missing something in her life than true loss. 

“He didn’t _abandon_ us,” Stiles tried to defend their dad. “Grams always said it was complicated. That he had issues he needed to take care of with his family. He sent her money when he could.”

“The occasional child support check or Christmas gift doesn’t make up for being a deadbeat dad,” Lydia retorted. “ _We_ were supposed to be his family and he just left us. You don’t even know him.”

“Well, this is my chance to get to know him, then, isn’t it?” Their younger brother shook his head and left the kitchen.

Allison sighed. “You know he’s sensitive about that.”

Lydia dropped into one of the chairs around the kitchen table and groaned. “I know, I know. I just don’t understand why he always takes his side. He has to know the whole ‘complicated family issues’ story was bullshit Grams spouted to make us feel better.”

Allison poured her sister a glass of wine and sat down next to her. “Stiles was so young when mom died; he doesn’t have any memories of her. And Dad left before he was born. He came back once to see him when he was a baby, but that’s it. Stiles didn’t get to have parents. Mom’s gone, but Dad is still alive; there’s still a chance of him coming back into our lives. Believing that Dad wants to be with us, but can’t be, gives him hope.”

“A futile hope. He’s better off giving up on Chris. At least then he won’t be disappointed when this turns out to be some kind of bullshit,” Lydia responded, taking a sip.

Allison shrugged. “Let him have hope. At least it’ll keep him from becoming bitter.” She dropped a kiss on Lydia’s head before heading upstairs, ignoring the redhead’s indignant look.

She knocked on Stiles’ closed bedroom door, “Hey, it’s me.” Hearing a slightly muffled “come in,” she entered the room. Stiles held a closed baby book in his hands. Allison had a feeling she knew exactly which picture he had been looking at.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“If you’re up for dinner tomorrow night, count me in,” she answered, simply. She certainly had a few questions to ask her father, and she wasn’t going to let Stiles do this alone. 

“Really?” her brother beamed at her.

“Really. We don’t know for sure why he’s back, but I guess we can hear him out. Get some answers, at least.” Stiles jumped up from where he was sitting on the trunk at the foot of his bed and wrapped his sister in a hug. She just hoped their dad lived up to Stiles’ expectations.

X

Stiles gazed into his coffee cup as he listened to the Manor door shut after Allison. He had gotten up late to avoid Lydia after last night. He understood why she was mad at their dad, but he didn’t get why she wouldn’t just give him a chance. He was their last living parent; that had to count for something, right? He sighed, rising from the kitchen table and heading up to his room. He pulled out the book he had been looking at the night before, handling it with the utmost care.

Stiles loved his grams, but he keenly felt the absence of his parents in his life. When he was a kid, she gave him a baby book filled with pictures of him and his mom, with his sisters making frequent appearances. It immediately became his most treasured possession, giving him a tangible connection to the mother he never knew. But there was one picture in there that didn’t feature his mom. 

His mom hadn’t found out she was pregnant with Stiles until after his dad left. While that hadn’t been enough to keep his dad around, the man did come see him when he was born, giving Grams the opportunity to snap the perfect picture of them. Stiles looked down at it now. It was just a simple photo of his dad holding his newborn self, but seeing the love on his face made it one of the most important pictures in the world to him. Lydia never understood why he wasn’t angry at their dad, but how could he be when he could see so clearly that his dad loved him? He didn’t know the real reason his father left, but Stiles had to forgive him because he couldn’t bring himself to throw away the chance of being loved like that, of feeling a parent’s love. Besides, if his dad loved him, then he must have had a good reason for leaving, right? In what world would a man who looked at his baby like that just up and leave without a solid reason?

When Stiles was a child, he begged his grams over and over again to tell him about his parents. She had no problem talking about his mom, but she always got stiff when describing his father. Lydia always said it was because Grams knew he was a scumbag but didn’t want to hurt them by saying so. Stiles always told Lydia to stuff it.

His grams’ meager description of the man was usually followed up with that vague excuse for his absence. It’s complicated. He had family issues to take care of. Stiles spent half his childhood making up wild stories of what his father could be doing. Maybe he was a spy that fell in love and had kids, but he had to leave because he put them in danger. Maybe some bad guy was holding his family hostage and he had to go after them; he’d come back after he saved them. Maybe he was an alien that had to go back to his own planet, but one day he’d return to tell them the truth and take them back with him. Stiles tended to keep his wild imaginings to himself, for fear of being mocked by Lydia or smiled pitifully at by Grams. But he told Allison sometimes, when it was late and dark and he couldn’t sleep. On those nights, he’d crawl into bed with her and they’d just talk until they fell asleep. She never laughed at him when he told her his stories; sometimes she’d add to them and give him new ideas.

Stiles sighed, shutting the book and putting it away. He knew Lydia thought he was foolish. That he was blind to the truth. On some of his worse days he might even agree with her. After all, he went to New York to find his dad because that’s where all the mail they got from him came from, but he could find no trace of the man. In reality, he knew nothing about him. His old stories were just stories. All he really had was that picture and the firm belief in his love. 

But now his dad’s in town. Just a few miles away. And he was going to see him tonight…unless he headed over to the Hyatt right now? Would that be too much? His dad came here to see them, right? So he probably wouldn’t mind seeing Stiles a little earlier than planned. He hoped.

X

Stiles was so glad his dad had chosen this particular hotel. His childhood friend Heather worked in the lobby throughout undergrad, and after she graduated she became a junior manager of the hotel. Hotels like this didn’t exactly tend to reveal their guests’ room numbers to anyone asking, but one call to Heather got him into her small office.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” she reminded him, while looking up the name “Chris Argent” on her computer. 

“But you love me,” Stiles responded, trying to keep his tone light even as his nerves started creeping up on him.

“And it’s your dad. This is a big deal.” Heather frowned suddenly, looking at the screen. “Are you sure this is the hotel he’s staying at? There’s no record of him in our system.”

“No, that can’t be right; he definitely told Lydia the Hyatt by the airport. We’re supposed to meet here for dinner tonight,” Stiles answered, his heart sinking. He hadn’t been lying, had he?

Heather shot him a look of pity that he ducked his head to avoid. “Do you have a picture of him? I can ask the receptionists if they’ve at least seen him.”

Stiles scrambled for his phone, swiping through his photo albums for the picture he had taken of one of his parents’ old wedding photos. “Here, that’s him. I mean, it’s an old picture, but it’s all I’ve got.”

Heather smiled softly at him. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised before leaving the office. The witch sighed and sat down in her chair. Maybe he _had_ gotten the hotel wrong. Or maybe he was an idiot for trusting his dad to be there. The minutes ticked by slowly as Stiles was left to stew in his uncertainty. 

Luckily, Heather returned with some news. “One of the girls was working when he checked in and recognized him from the picture. She remembered his last name was Bennett, so we looked up the name, and there’s only one Bennett in a room with a single bed. Room 3251; it’s under Victor Bennett.”

“Victor Bennett,” Stiles repeated, confused. “Is she sure that’s him? I mean, it’s an old picture and the likelihood of her remembering one guy’s name correctly isn’t exactly high.”

Heather smirked. “She thought he was hot.”

“Okay, yeah, that’ll do it.” Stiles mulled over this information. Victor Bennett. His dad was staying under a fake name. But why? What the hell was going on here?

“Stiles, are you sure you should go see him? I mean, this whole thing is kinda...” Heather trailed off uncomfortably.

“Thanks for the help, Heather,” he said, clasping his old friend in a hug. “I’m sure there’s a reason for this, but I won’t know unless I go talk to him.”

“Okay,” she responded, somewhat reluctantly. “Come see me before you leave? Just so I know you’re okay.” 

“Sure thing,” he answered as he left the office. Waiting for the elevator and the subsequent ride up felt like it took a second. All too soon he found himself in front of Room 3251. Victor Bennett’s room. His dad’s room. Stiles took a deep breath and knocked on the door before he could psych himself out even more. 

X

Chris jerked slightly when he heard the knock on his door. He hadn’t ordered room service, and he had made sure to place the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on his door handle, so it likely wasn’t the hotel staff. But no one should know he’s here. Not unless they came looking for him. He drew his gun and flicked the safety off before silently slinking to the door and looking through the peephole. Whoever was on the other side had their head bent, so he just got an eyeful of dark hair. Smart, if it was one of Gerard’s men. 

Chris bit back a curse and moved his weapon to his side, angling his body to hide it in case it was a civilian knocking on the wrong door. He unlatched the chain lock, turned the deadbolt, and cautiously opened the door. The man on the other side jumped slightly as though surprised. He wasn’t one of Gerard’s men, as far as Chris knew, but the way he was staring at Chris made it clear that he hadn’t mixed up the room numbers either. 

His grip on his gun tightened as he looked over the stranger at his door. He was young, but those broad shoulders were that of a man, not a boy. He had dark brown hair and pale skin littered with moles, but it was his eyes that really caught Chris’ attention. They were a warm, whiskey color that sparked some kind of recognition in him. Wait, was this—

“Hi, Dad,” the young man broke the silence stretching between them.

“Przemysław,” he breathed out, gazing upon his son for the first time in twenty-one years.

Przemysław winced, to Chris’ surprise. He knew he had pronounced the difficult Polish name correctly; Claudia had drilled it into him the day he met his son. 

“Stiles, actually. Everyone calls me Stiles,” his son said, voice a little rough. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Chris responded, frowning slightly. “I shouldn’t have…”

“You couldn’t have known,” Stiles said, shrugging uncomfortably. 

Chris winced at that. “Here, come in.” He moved to let Stiles enter the room, taking advantage of his turned back to flick the safety back on his gun and place it in the desk near the door. 

He took another moment to really look at his son. “You look just like your mother. You even have her eyes.”

The younger man fidgeted a bit. “Yeah, that’s what Grams always said. Allison and I took after Mom, while Lydia looks more like your side of the family, I guess.” 

Chris nodded at the assessment. His son was a man now. The last time he had seen him, he had only been a few days old and was just so _tiny_. Just this small, precious thing that looked up at him with large, trusting eyes. And he had left. He’d missed seeing his children grow up. 

“So, I know we weren’t supposed to see each other until tonight, but I just, uh, wanted to see you,” Przem—no, Stiles, explained to him.

“How did you get my room number?” Chris asked.

“Why are you using a fake name?” his son challenged. The older man pursed his lips; he was young, but he was certainly a Stilinski.

“It’s…complicated,” Chris admitted, hoping his son wouldn’t press the issue.

“Complicated,” the brunet scoffed. “Right. Is that all you’re going to say?”

“Przemysław,” Chris sighed, before his son cut him off.

“Stiles. My name is Stiles,” he spit out. “God, I am so stupid. I really thought things would be different now that we’re older. That we’d actually get some explanations instead of the same ‘it’s complicated’ crap Grams spewed for years.” The fire seemed to leave Stiles and he shook his head wearily. “I shouldn’t have come here.” He shouldered past his father to leave the room but suddenly stopped, gasping slightly as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

“Stiles?” Chris asked, a pit forming in his stomach. Shit, he had been doing so well avoiding his son’s touch and reining in the impulse to hug him. His son stumbled away from him, eyes widening in horror. “Stiles, what did you see?” Stiles scrambled for the door. Chris lunged after him, pulling him away from the door just enough to slam him against the adjacent wall so they were face to face. Stiles struggled against his father, but Chris had years of training and experience on the younger man. 

“I’m so sorry about this,” he whispered, pulling out a pouch from his jacket pocket with one hand, while subduing his son with his other arm. He managed to grab a pinch of the white powder in the pouch and quickly tossed it into Stiles’ face. His son suddenly stopped struggling and stood there, face blank. “You’re going to forget that you came here. You won’t remember the name Victor Bennett or anything else that happened here, especially that premonition. You spent the day at home. Just go back home and take a nap; you’ll feel better afterward.” He moved back, letting go of the witch. Stiles blinked passively at him before turning and sedately walking out of the hotel room like nothing had happened. 

Chris closed the door after him, deadbolting it again. As he sat down on the bed, he dropped his head into his hands. If Claudia were alive to see what he had just done to their son, she’d have castrated him. But he had to. Better to erase Stiles’ memories of what had happened than let him try to stop Chris from doing what he came here to do. His mission was too important. Besides, he should be used to doing morally dubious things by now; he was a hunter, after all.

X

Allison made it home before Lydia and wondered if she’d even see her sister that night or if the older witch would avoid her younger siblings because she disapproved of their dinner date. The middle sibling sighed, heading to her room to get ready for dinner. She frowned as she passed by her brother’s open door. Was he sleeping? She glanced at the clock on her phone; she better wake him up.

“Stiles?” she called out gently. No response. She rolled her eyes, wondering what she was expecting, and marched into the room to prod at the younger witch until he woke up. It took a little more effort than waking him from a nap would normally require, but soon enough whiskey-colored eyes were blearily blinking up at her.

“Whaaa?” he slurred.

“You okay, there? It’s just past five; we have dinner with Dad in a couple of hours,” Allison explained, a little concerned now.

“It’s five?” Stiles frowned, looking around for his phone for confirmation. “Huh, missed call from Heather. That’s weird, I haven’t talked to her in a while.” 

“Did your horoscope say anything about this being your week for reunions?” Allison teased. Stiles stuck his tongue out, though the effect was quickly ruined by a loud yawn. “Since when do you nap this late anyway? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just feel kinda out of it; I don’t even remember falling asleep,” he shrugged. “I just need a shower and some food soon.”

“Ooh, I call dibs on the shower,” Allison said, shooting up from the bed.

“No fair,” her brother whined. Allison laughed as she exited the room, making her way to the bathroom. 

X

“Allison, Stiles, it’s really good to see you,” their father said as they seated themselves at the table he had reserved. There was an awkward moment before they sat where Stiles had wondered if they were supposed to hug, but since Allison had made no move to do so, he reined in his own impulse. The man in front of him may have been two decades older than the one in the picture, but he was unmistakably the father Stiles had grown up thinking about.

“Wait, how’d you know I go by Stiles?” he wondered aloud. The nickname hadn’t been invented until he was five.

His dad smiled warmly at him, “I kept in touch with your grams a bit, to see how you guys were doing.” 

“She never told us that,” Allison responded skeptically. 

“Well, she must have thought it would be better that way.” Their father shrugged, looking self-conscious, before changing the subject. “So, Stiles, are you still in school?”

“Uh, no, I took some time off after Grams died. Moved to New York for a bit. I only recently came back,” the youngest Stilinski answered. His dad nodded, and the night went on like that. All the normal catch-up kind of talk you would have with someone you hadn’t seen in a while. His dad didn’t bring up why he left and Stiles didn’t know how to ask. He didn’t want to ruin the nice atmosphere they had built up by bringing up old wounds. But he still needed to know.

Allison must have been thinking the same thing because when their dad asked if they wanted to order dessert, her response was “Actually, I’d rather get some real answers out of you.” 

Chris tensed. “This might not be the place for that.”

Allison gave him a hard look before subtly flicking her hands out; everyone in the room except Stiles froze. He looked around, wishing for a moment that he had such a cool power. Of course, their powers didn’t work against good witches, so at least he wasn’t frozen with the rest of them.

“What’d you do that for?” he asked his sister.

“Should we invite him back to the Manor? Lydia’s there and she might get pissed, but if our only other option is his hotel room…well, I’d rather do this on our turf,” Allison explained, absently twisting the ring she was wearing around her finger. One of her little nervous tics.

“It’s our house, too,” Stiles responded. “And she should listen was he has to say, anyway. If we’re finally getting a real explanation for not having a father in our lives, then she’s probably gonna wanna hear it for herself.” 

Allison bit her lip, but nodded in agreement. “Okay, get back in whatever position you were in.” Stiles rolled his eyes and tried to remember exactly how he was sitting as Allison flicked her hands out again and movement resumed. He opened his mouth to invite their dad back to the Manor, but shut it again when he saw his dad’s eyes aimed at Allison’s hands. Wait, did he know?

“I see you’ve gotten a handle on the freezing power,” Chris noted. Stiles took that as a yes.

“What?” Allison sputtered out.

“But you might want to be more careful with that one; your ring moved,” his dad pointed out. Stiles looked down at Allison’s hand and the jade in it was tilted to the side from her fidgeting earlier. Shit. Who noticed things like that? “Why don’t I get the check and we move this conversation elsewhere?” 

X

Stiles unlocked the Manor’s front door to find Lydia pacing in the foyer. Allison had texted her in the car to give her a heads up, and damn, Stiles did not envy that task; Lydia didn’t look happy in the slightest to be hosting their father. She stalked into the living room, leaving the other three to follow her.

“You know about our powers,” she announced matter-of-factly to the room. “What else do you know about? Are you a witch?”

Chris chuckled. “No, I’m definitely not a witch. Just a mortal that married one and had magical children. You don’t remember this, but you actually had your powers until Stiles was born. Your mother bound them for your protection as a child. So you could grow up normally, without the threat of demons.” 

“I was six when Stiles was born, more than old enough to make memories. I wouldn’t just forget having powers,” Lydia pointed out. 

“No, not on your own,” their dad agreed. “Your mom cast a spell on you and Allison to keep you from remembering that you had magic. If certain childhood memories seem particularly hazy, then it’s probably because magic played a prominent role in them.”

“She cast a spell on us?” Allison looked hurt at this new knowledge.

“It was for your own good. You got to grow up safely,” their dad stressed. Stiles understood the reasoning, but if it was a bitter pill for him to swallow, he doubted his sisters would be taking this new piece of information about their mother much better. 

“Is that why you left? The magic?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask. 

Chris sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “In a sense, yes, but it really is so much more complicated than that.”

Lydia snorted. “Of course. Complicated. What else is new? If that’s all, then just go.”

“Lydia, I came here to see you. I’m sorry that I left and that I haven’t really been in touch. You have to know that I’ve always loved you,” their dad pleaded.

“Why now?” Allison questioned sharply. “Grams died months ago; we could’ve used you then. Why did you decide to come back now?”

“I wanted to let you grieve first. I didn’t want to complicate things just after you lost her,” Chris explained. “And I knew about the spell that would return your powers. I didn’t know if you had found it yet, so I came to tell you who you are. Who your family was. And to help you. I may not be a witch, but your mom taught me a lot. And I can teach you.”

“That’s actually kind of perfect considering we only became witches a few weeks ago and have huge target on our backs. Playing catch up on our own is hard,” Stiles mused aloud. And having his dad in his life? Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad.

“Stiles,” Lydia cut in, warningly. 

“What? You’re the one that says we need to learn everything we can as fast as we can,” Stiles argued. “Constant vigilance, remember?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “We’re handling it; we don’t need you,” she said pointedly to their dad.

“You’re smart, but having someone with experience on your side can only help you,” Chris responded. “What’s your main resource, the Book of Shadows? I know things Claudia never even added to the Book.”

“Don’t talk about her,” the eldest Stilinski hissed. 

“Lydia—” Allison started.

“No!” Lydia interrupted. “He doesn’t get to talk about her after everything he’s done. He left her and he left us. We don’t even know this man, not really. And we’re certainly not going to welcome him back with open arms because he thinks he can help us. We’re going to be fine on our own; we always have been.” Allison looked contemplative at this, but Stiles couldn’t believe how stubborn his sister was being. All she’s talked about for weeks is being prepared and now she’s turning down help that could potentially save their lives? The only thing that ever got in the way of that big brain of hers was her pride.

“Lydia, this is insane. He’s our dad and the only one in our family left who knows about any of this stuff,” Stiles began, moving towards his sister. He must have brushed against his dad because a moment later the witch was flung into a premonition.

_Chris packed his suitcase hurriedly. He shoved the large Book of Shadows into it before stuffing clothes in the space left._

Stiles came out of the vision gasping and spinning away from his dad. That premonition, he had it before. In a hotel room? But he hadn’t been in a hotel room recently. Wait, his dad’s hotel room. But no, he spent the day at home. What did he even do today? Read? Watch TV? Go to his dad’s hotel to see him? The memories started trickling in—Heather, Victor Bennett, the premonition, some weird white powder. What the fuck? 

“Stiles, what’s wrong? What did you see?” came the worried voice of his oldest sister. The two older Stilinskis had latched onto him while he had gotten lost in his mind, shielding him protectively from their dad, who looked nervous for the first time that night. 

“You son of a bitch,” he gasped out, the betrayal evident in his face and voice. “I’ve had that premonition before, but you made me forget. I went to see you today and you made me forget all of it. You said you didn’t have magic!” Lydia’s eyes narrowed at that, and their dad was suddenly thrown into the nearest wall. 

“What are you? What did you do to Stiles?” she demanded, as he grunted from the ground.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I was a mortal. I used a powder that had inherently magical properties to make him forget what he saw. But I’m only trying to help you,” he explained, rising up from the floor.

“I defended you,” Stiles spit out. “And you’ve been lying this whole time. You don’t want to help us; you want to steal the Book.”

“Stiles, it’s really not what you think. I mean, I did come here for the Book, but not to hurt you. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen,” Chris said pleadingly. “I’m trying to protect you! That’s why I came back, to protect you from yourselves.”

“You don’t want us to be witches,” Lydia realized. “You came here to prevent us from finding out about our powers, not to help us get them back.”

Chris sighed. “After Stiles came back to San Francisco it was only a matter of time, really. I wanted to get here sooner, but this is the first chance I’ve had. But I realized I was too late as soon as you moved that lamp in your office.”

“You knew I went to New York?” Stiles asked. Did he know why, too? 

“You three don’t understand, it’s not just demons and warlocks you have to worry about; there are humans watching you. Hunters.”

“Like witch hunters?” Allison questioned.

“Not just witches. These hunters will go after werewolves, vampires, demons, and anything else they think has hurt a human in some way. Well, that’s supposed to be their code. Some don’t follow it. Some will go after any supernatural creature they find. And they’ve been keeping an eye on the Charmed Ones, waiting for your powers to return.” Chris looked grim.

“And you’re one of them,” Lydia shrewdly deduced, eying their father. She had placed herself defensively in front of her siblings, despite their dad not having moved since she used her power on him. Stiles couldn’t help but appreciate his sister; he could now vividly remember the panic of receiving that vision in the hotel room. He could also remember the fear he had felt when his dad had overpowered him and slammed him against the wall, and the realization that he _didn’t_ know this man that was supposed to be his father.

“Yes, but it’s not what you think. Please let me explain,” the older man pleaded. 

“Fine, but if you take one step, I’m throwing you out the door this time,” Lydia warned.

Chris nodded, lips quirking up. “Okay, I’m not sure if you know, but the Argent family is a well-known arms dealer. Usually to police and other law enforcement. But my family…they’re not good people. The company has always been a front for the real family business: hunting the supernatural. Of course it’s more than just my family; we have a lot hunters working under us. We’re supposed to follow a code, like I told you. Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

“We hunt those who hunt us?” Allison translated hesitantly. Everyone turned to look at her. “I took French in high school, remember?”

“Right, well we’re supposed to follow that code to ensure we don’t hunt any innocent supernatural creatures. And that’s how it was for a long time, but my mother died when I was twenty and my father took over and changed things. Gerard couldn’t indiscriminately go after every supernatural creature without the other hunters questioning his leadership, but he’s got enough goons without morals that he can get them to back him up on the supposed crimes his victims committed when he does deviate from the code.”

“So he just goes around murdering innocent people?” Stiles demanded. Nice to know he had an evil grandfather and a dad who let it slide.

“Not as often as he would like. He’s too well protected for me to try to stop him and has too many supporters to stage a coup. I left the business as soon as I realized I couldn’t stop him. We have hunters all over the country, but Gerard’s primarily based in New York, so I moved as far as I could get: San Francisco. I met your mom not too long after, and for the first time in my life believed that I could start a new family completely untouched by the Argents. We got married, had Lydia and Allison, and everything was fine.” 

“Did she know who you were?” Lydia interrogated.

“The second she heard my name,” Chris answered, with a nostalgic smile. “But your mom was…amazing. She didn’t care who my family was, only who I was, which your grams hated. I found out Claudia was a witch pretty early on in our relationship. She wasn’t always careful when freezing people either.”

“She could freeze things?” Allison asked softly.

“Yeah, that was her power. Your grams had telekinesis. As far as I know, no one’s had the power of premonition in the family for a while. It’s a pretty rare gift.” Stiles refused to make eye contact with his dad at this point. He didn’t even want to be in the same room as him right now.

Chris sighed. “Your grams thawed after we got married; I guess I earned her trust over time. We were happy. For a few years anyway. I have a sister. Kate. She was a few years younger than me and the apple of my dad’s eye. She was still young when my mom died, so Gerard sent me away a lot and handled her training, turning her into his perfect hunter. But she’s still my sister. She was the only one that knew where I was and how to contact me. Apparently a seer my father had captured told him that he was going to be the grandfather of the Charmed Ones. Well, that wasn’t exactly something he wanted to hear. Gerard convinced Kate to contact me, to tell me she was in town and in trouble. I ran off to help her without even thinking about it, I mean, she’s my sister. I’m sure you understand the feeling.” 

Stiles looked at his sisters and couldn’t disagree with that assessment.

“I was cornered by a squad of Gerard’s hunters and he offered me a deal: go back to hunting and cut off all contact with you and your mom or let you die. He already had a team in place to set the Manor on fire. You were all home with your mom and grams. Kate had given him all the information he needed to set this up. It wasn’t even a choice; I wasn’t going to let you die. Gerard promised to leave this family alone as long as I worked for him.”

“But you didn’t cut off all contact,” Allison pointed out. Stiles wondered how she could focus on that when all he could think about was the fact that this was essentially one of his old stories come to life. It couldn’t be real, could it? Then again, with magic being real, everything was kind of up in the air.

“No, not completely. Gerard had men keeping an eye on me, but I could slip some things past them. He’s also been keeping track of you, but not as intently. Not until your grams died. He’s waiting to see if you get your powers. So far he’s kept his end of the deal, but I don’t trust him. Gerard’s in France right now, so I came here to take the Book in hope that you hadn’t already received your powers, but it was too late.” He frowned at his children. 

“And how do we even know you’re telling the truth?” Lydia asked suspiciously. “You’ve been lying since you got here.” 

“You just have to trust me,” he answered, searching his children’s faces. “Stiles, I’m sorry, really. But—”

“No,” Stiles decided. “You came here to lie to us. To steal from us. To stop us from learning who we really are, who Mom was. I don’t trust you. I don’t believe you. I just want you to leave.” He managed to keep his voice steady, but inside, he was far from calm. He wanted to scream and cry and _hurt_ his father like he had hurt him. 

“Stiles,” his father began, taking a step forward. Lydia squinted and he was thrown into the wall again. 

“Get out,” she demanded. “We don’t want you here. We’re not giving you the Book. And if you try to take it I’d be more than happy to throw you out the window instead.”

“I’m just trying to protect you. From Gerard, from all the demons that are going to come after you. You can still strip yourselves of your powers,” Chris pleaded. Stiles stared at him. Strip their powers? Give up the destiny they had barely begun? No, not a chance in hell.

“She told you to leave,” Allison said, voice as hard as her eyes. 

Their father drew himself up and walked toward the door. “You’re making a mistake. I’ll be in town a couple more days. You know where to find me.” With that, their father walked out the door and hopefully out of their lives again.

Stiles shuddered slightly as he sank down to the couch. “You were right.” Their father may have had a good reason for leaving, but coming back like this? It was too much. Stiles wasn’t sure if he would be able to forgive him for that. His mind felt violated.

“Well, I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Lydia said, sitting next to him and laying a comforting hand on his arm.

“I don’t think any of us could have predicted _that_ ,” Allison agreed, joining her siblings on the couch. 

X

As Chris Argent walked back to the hotel from his meeting, he felt eyes on him. Maybe he was paranoid, but his training kicked in and he began to use evasive tactics to throw off any potential followers. His breakfast with Satomi had given him the information he needed: the supernatural community was still unaware of the Charmed Ones’ presence in San Francisco. The alpha had given him a slightly knowing look when he had asked for any current news about the supernatural community in the city, but they had known each other long enough to at least somewhat trust one another. She kept him informed on what was going on in San Francisco and he kept hunters off her back. His end wasn’t too hard considering she was wise enough not to attract attention. 

But someone was definitely following him, he decided. Since avoidance didn’t seem to be working, he headed down an alley to deal with his pursuer head on. Ducking behind a dumpster, the veteran hunter pulled out a knife and waited. Sure enough multiple sets of footsteps echoed down the alleyway. He was outnumbered. Great. 

Chris waited for them to pass his spot before springing out. There were four of them; three men and a woman. They were obviously hunters, but they were young. Careless. Not nearly as experienced as Chris. Luckily, they, too, had forgone guns since they were so close to civilians that could call the police. The fight was short, but brutal. 

Chris quickly stabbed one in the shoulder before kicking him in the stomach so he landed on the ground. He slammed the woman’s head against the dumpster, knocking her out. The remaining two quickly recovered from their surprise and came at him simultaneously, one with an electric baton and the other with a knife. Chris ducked the swipe from the knife and used the hunter’s momentum to pull him forward, twisting out of the way so that the hunter slammed right into his friend’s electric baton. The man groaned and seized, before falling to the ground. The remaining hunter stumbled back from his fallen comrade, eyes widening in panic. Chris swept his feet out from under him before grabbing the baton and stunning him, too. 

With three out of the four hunters unconscious, Chris turned back to the first one, still bleeding on the ground. He was trying to crawl away, but the older hunter quickly pinned him down with a foot. “What were your orders? What was the point of this?”

The man shook his head, so Chris pressed on the knife wound in his shoulder, keeping his face stoic as the wounded man screamed in pain. “Gerard wanted us to capture you,” he gasped out. “He’s here. He wants the witches’ heads.” Chris’ blood ran cold. He had come here to protect his children, but his presence must have drawn Gerard here. He was going to get them killed.

X

Lydia rubbed her temples, putting down the report on the auction she helped work on this morning. It had gone well, but the witch was exhausted; she had tossed and turned all night. Her body was on high alert for some gang of hunters to attack after what Chris had told them. She didn’t know how much of it was true, but she’d take any threat against her siblings seriously. And that included Chris. He had left the Manor peacefully, but Lydia wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t return for the Book. Their lives might be easier without magic, but now that they had discovered their powers, had stopped two forces of evil from hurting anyone else…well, Lydia was actually starting to like being a witch. Was this what it was like for her mother? For Grams? 

Lydia shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and get back to work; she returned to reading the auction report. When her office door suddenly opened and Chris strode in, it was almost like she had been waiting for it. She was up and on the defensive in a flash.

“Get out,” she snarled. 

“Gerard is here. He’s come for you and your siblings. You need to call them, get them to go somewhere public until we can pick them up,” Chris ordered. 

“Wh—” Lydia began.

“There’s no time for questions. You need to call them now,” Chris interrupted, slamming his hands on the desk, looking desperate. The witch reached for her phone to do just that. She got ahold of Allison easily; she was at Quake with plenty of people around. Lydia’s heartbeat rose as Stiles’ cellphone went to voicemail for the second time.

“He could be out, or at a kickboxing class,” she suggested faintly, but the idea of a bloodthirsty hunter being out there and her brother not picking up his phone had her nauseous. 

“Call Allison back, we’re picking her up and heading to the Manor. If he’s not there, I can show you how to scry for him,” Chris commanded, turning to leave the office. Lydia hurried to catch up. As much as she hated taking orders, for her siblings’ safety she’d swallow her pride and obey.

X

Stiles answered the knock at the front door with slight trepidation, hoping it wasn’t his father. Instead he was faced with a rather attractive, though unfamiliar man.

“Uh, hi, can I help you?” he asked. 

The man smiled disarmingly. “Hi, I’m Adam. I’m Annise Floyd’s nephew and I’m staying with her and Uncle Joe for a few days. I kinda locked myself out of the house, though, and you’re the first person on the street who’s answered the door. Can I borrow your cell phone to call Aunt Annise? I left mine inside the house.” He gestured over his shoulder to the house across the street. 

Stiles shot a strained smile at the man, trying not to show his alarm. Annise and Joe left for Hawaii a couple of days ago. He was supposed to be watering their plants. “Uh, sure. Do you mind waiting out here for a second? My sisters are redecorating and the house is one big safety hazard right now! I’ll just go grab my phone.” He moved to close the door, but Adam’s hand shot out, stopping it, before shoving Stiles into the house, clearly realizing that the jig was up.

Adam reached for Stiles, but the witch blocked his hand and tried to knee him in the crotch. The other man seemed to anticipate that, however, because he twisted out of the way and tried to punch Stiles in the face. The brunet barely moved out of the way in time. He fought back, punching and kicking as he had learned, but Adam was stronger and more experienced. It didn’t take long for him to grab Stiles and slam his head against the foyer table. The witch dropped to the floor and as everything started turning black, he could faintly hear Lydia’s ringtone on his cell phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest chapter so far. I cut out all the shapeshifter stuff from this "episode" because family drama is way better. I've already started the next chapter, so the update won't be too far off. Let me know what you think!


	4. Tough Love

Stiles woke up tied to a chair in his own living room. Taking stock of his surroundings, he noticed Adam, two muscled men, and a much older man making themselves comfortable in his home. He attempted to subtly test the ropes holding him, but the old man smiled gently at him as he noticed his return to consciousness. 

“I was afraid Adam hit you too hard for a minute there,” the man admitted, walking over to the bound witch and lightly stroking the sure-to-be livid bruise on his temple. “I mean, I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered too much, but I’d much rather you be awake for this. Especially if your family comes home in time. Now, before we begin, I must warn you not to scream. If any concerned neighbor comes over or calls the police, my men will shoot whoever comes knocking on the door. Who knows? It might even be that lovely young man your sister is seeing.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Stiles groaned a bit; talking made the pounding in his skull worse. How did this stranger know about Jordan?

“Why I’m your grandfather, of course. You can call me Gerard; grandpa might be a bit much considering our situation. It’s a shame we’ve never met before this, but that was for your benefit, really. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping an eye on you.” The man spoke genially, as if he hadn’t worked with some goon to attack Stiles and do God knows what with him now. “You see, your father broke a deal he made with me and, unfortunately, you have to pay for it. Now, remember not to scream. Begin.” This last part was directed to none other than Adam. Stiles was really beginning to hate this guy. 

Adam walked forward and socked Stiles across the face. Once. Twice. Three times, before Gerard held up a hand for him to stop. Pain bloomed all over Stiles face and he definitely heard his nose break on that second hit. He gasped through the pain, though even that hurt. He could feel blood gushing down his face, so almost definitely a broken nose then.

“I _am_ sorry for all this unpleasantness, you know,” Gerard continued smoothly, as if nothing important had occurred. “But I really need to make an impression on Christopher and what’s better than the bloody and beaten body of his only son? You’ll have to die, of course, but I want him to know that it hurt first.”

“You’re insane,” Stiles bit out, wincing. It hurt, it hurt so fucking much. His face felt like it was on fire, while the pounding in his head grew worse. 

“No, I’m an Argent,” Gerard corrected, coolly. “It is my family’s duty to put an end to the dangers to humanity. That includes witches. You’ve only survived this long because of my mercy.” He placed a finger under Stiles lolling head and forced him to look up. “It’s a shame that you have to die, Stiles—you do go by Stiles, right? In another world, I would’ve been proud to raise you as my grandson and train you to be a magnificent hunter. But not with that witch blood in you. It’s unfortunate that you have to pay for the sins of your parents, but the world is rarely fair.” 

With that, he ripped open Stiles shirt with surprising strength for a man that had to be in his seventies. He held out a hand and one of the thugs handed him a baton similar to the kind policemen carried. Stiles barely had a moment to panic before Gerard began hitting him in the chest and stomach with the baton. Strong, steady blows rained down on the witch, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt he’d broken at least one rib. 

He couldn’t help crying out in pain. Couldn’t help crying, period. It was pain like he’d never experienced. Eventually, mercifully, it stopped. Gerard stood back to admire his handy work; Stiles had always bruised easily and this was no exception. Red splotches covered his body and would soon give way to deep bruises. Stiles tried to keep his body as still as possible, but even breathing hurt. 

“Stop, please,” he breathed out, hating himself for his weakness. 

“Oh, son, don’t worry, it’s almost over,” Gerard reassured him, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Just think, this could’ve been one of your sisters instead. It was all chance, really that it was you. I just waited for the first one home alone. I guess that’s what happens when you’re the only one unemployed.”

Stiles closed his eyes. At least he could take comfort in the fact that his sisters were alright. That this wasn’t happening to one of them. That he could protect them in this way at least. Please just let this be over before they came home. He couldn’t bear for Gerard to hurt them, too. His eyes flew open when he heard a slight hiss. Gerard held a poker, of all things, with some kind of symbol at the end. It must have been an electric poker because it looked like it was heating up on its own, if the reddening end meant anything. 

“No, no!” Stiles struggled futilely against his bonds, ignoring the pain in his desperation to get away.

“Relax, Stiles, we just want to leave our mark, our family crest. Well, my family crest. Then it’ll all be over. You won’t be in pain anymore,” Gerard said soothingly. When the witch continued to struggle, he rolled his eyes and made a sharp gesture at Adam. The large man came forward once more to punch Stiles in the face again. 

The witch’s head rolled back, things going hazy for a bit. He must have blacked out for a few seconds there because one moment Gerard was stepping toward him menacingly with a white-hot poker reaching toward his face and the next, he had disappeared from sight and his three lackeys were aiming their guns at the entryway to the living room. 

X

“Stiles!” Lydia called out as she, Allison, and Chris entered the Manor in a rush to reach the youngest Stilinski. 

“In here,” an unfamiliar voice called out from the living room. Chris visibly tensed before drawing a gun and leading Lydia and Allison into the living room.

“Now, if the witches move even one facial muscle, we’ll all shoot. And I guarantee at least one of us will be faster than your powers,” an elderly man said with a cheerful smile. Allison gasped, while Lydia froze. One facial muscle? He knew exactly how she channeled her power. And she couldn’t risk her siblings’ lives on the chance that she may be fast enough.

The scene in the Stilinski Manor living room made a sickening tableau. Stiles was tied to a chair and looked half-dead. His face was already two different colors and swelling, and his nose was bloody and obviously broken. His shirt hung open revealing red, swelling skin, bruises already forming in some places. He blinked slowly at the arrival of his family, but otherwise didn’t move. Behind him, the old man held a gun to the back of his head, safety off and ready to fire. Three younger men fanned out across the room, each with a gun aimed at either Chris, Allison, or Lydia. Chris had a gun aimed at the old man, but they were outmaneuvered here.

“Get away from him, Gerard. We had a deal,” Chris hissed at the old man. This was their grandfather, Lydia realized, the man who’d been holding a knife against their throats their whole lives without them even knowing about it. And now he wanted to make good on that threat. 

“We did,” Gerard agreed, amicably. “And I’m keeping up my end of it. I told you to stay away from them, Christopher. You knew the dangers of returning.”

“I came back to stop them from being witches,” Chris shouted back. “Isn’t that something you should want? Fewer witches in the world?” Lydia caught Stiles’ eye and tried to project confidence, tried to silently assure him that she would get him out of this. That she’d find a way to save him. His mouth tilted slightly, but his eyes showed fear. 

“A non-practicing witch or even a witch that loses their powers is still a witch. They can still pass it on to the next generation. Only death will result in fewer witches in the world.” The man spoke so calmly that Lydia almost shook in rage. Almost. She knew what would happen if she made a move. Maybe she and Allison could move out of the path of the bullets, but Stiles would still die. It wouldn’t help.

“You need to learn your lesson, Christopher,” Gerard continued. “I will not accept your disobedience in this. Don’t worry, our deal will still protect your daughters once you leave with me. But your son has to die for your transgressions. You need to know that I’m serious about this.”

“I know you’re serious,” Chris said hurriedly. “I’ll do what you want, kill who you want; just let him go. Please.”

Gerard smiled. “You’ll do what I want, regardless, if you want your other children to live past today. No, Christopher, it’s time to pay for your mistakes. Now, I’m going to shoot little Stiles here in the head. And none of you are going to move an inch or my men here will start firing.” His gaze narrowed in on Lydia, perhaps sensing her desire to scream, to move, to do something. “You don’t want to get your sister killed, too, do you, sweetheart?” 

“You sociopathic son of a bitch, I will fucking kill you for this,” the redhead threatened icily. And she would, too. He may have been a human, but if he killed her brother, then she would go after him harder and with less mercy than any demon. Stiles’ eyes widened and he shook his head minutely, but Lydia would be damned if she cowered before this monster.

Gerard chuckled. “Such fire in you. Just like my wife, before she passed. You even look like her, with the red hair and all. You really do have such beautiful children, Christopher. It’s a shame that you did this to them.” He slowly started to squeeze the trigger, looking like he was savoring every moment of their frozen pain. Stiles’ eyes were gritted shut. Lydia’s heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, but she didn’t dare move and risk Allison, too. She couldn’t lose them both.

“Wait, you don’t want this!” Chris called out desperately. Gerard rolled his eyes, but didn’t move, allowing his son to continue speaking. “Killing Stiles won’t do anything. You’ve already motivated me enough to do whatever you want. You don’t gain anything from this that you didn’t already have. But I can give you something new if you don’t kill him.”

“And what’s that?” Gerard looked somewhat interested in this change of events.

“Yellow wolfsbane,” Chris replied simply. 

That certainly caught the old man’s attention, Lydia noticed. He didn’t move the gun from where it rested against Stiles’ head, but he did lean forward slightly with a new gleam in his eye. “You have yellow wolfsbane? How much?”

“I have a few samples, but more importantly, I know how to grow it,” Chris shot back, looking more confident now that he had his father’s interest.

“You know what you’re giving me here. Whose life you’re trading for his.” 

It wasn’t really a question, but Chris answered anyway. “I know what I’m doing. It’s worth it.”

“And how do I know you’re even telling me the truth, son. I thought I could trust you, but the moment you believed I left the country you broke your end of our deal.” The old man’s eyes glittered maliciously. Lydia felt hatred rising within her; she had never felt so strongly, so viscerally about another person in her life. Stiles’ eyes had fluttered open as the talking continued and the cautious hope she found there made her want to abandon all restraint and throw Gerard clear across the room. But she refrained, not daring to put everyone’s lives in danger.

“I discovered it years ago, but I kept it hidden. I have a safe containing most of the samples in Montreal. If I’m lying, then nullify our deal,” Chris responded quickly. 

“That’s a bold proposition,” Gerard noted.

“No, it’s not, because I’m telling you the truth. You want to hunt a jaguar? You want to string her up to show the world how _strong_ the Argents are? Fine, just leave them out of this,” Chris said fiercely. 

Gerard smiled, removing his gun from the back of Stiles’ head. Stiles’ eyes widened, looking at his sisters with disbelief. Allison let out a quiet sigh of relief next to her, but Lydia didn’t dare to move, though, not with a gun still aimed at Allison. She couldn’t believe that Chris’ desperate bargaining worked; Gerard must have really hated this jaguar, whatever that was code for. 

“Well then, a deal is a deal. Let’s go Christopher. And you two don’t move a muscle until we’ve left the house or we’ll get to see if magic is faster than bullets.” Gerard casually strolled out of the living room and out of the Manor, leaving his hunters behind to cover him. 

“I’m sorry,” was all Chris said, looking at each of his children, before following his father. The hunters moved with trained precision, keeping their guns aimed at the Stilinskis as they slowly backed out of the room and then the house. 

Hearing the door slam shut, Lydia felt like she could finally breathe comfortably. She was barely a step behind Allison in rushing to Stiles. With trembling hands, the two witches began to untie their brother from the chair. 

“And I thought Grams was into tough love,” he joked, before whimpering when they accidentally jostled his body.

“Sorry, sorry,” Allison murmured, pulling the last of the rope away. “Oh my God, Stiles, I’m calling an ambulance.” She reached for her phone, but Stiles lightly swatted her hand, then groaned in pain.

“No ambulance,” he gasped out. 

“Sweetie, you need a hospital, okay? You’re in pretty bad shape,” Lydia said firmly but squeezing his hand gently.

“Ambulances are expensive. Just drive me,” he bit out, talking obviously hurting him. Lydia frowned at him; of course, this is the one time he’d be responsible about something. 

“Okay, c’mon, let’s hurry. Can you walk?” Allison asked, looking worried. Stiles tried to get up, but the pain must have been too much because he let out a strangled shout and stopped moving. “Okay, Lydia, help me get him.” The sisters worked together to carefully maneuver Stiles out of the chair, wincing whenever he gasped in pain. They tucked themselves under each arm and started walking to the car. Stiles shuddered and let out bitten off noises as they moved, but they couldn’t be any gentler. She internally cursed at Chris and Gerard. The fucking _Argents_. She had never been so happy that her mother had kept her maiden name and passed it on to her children.

It was slow going, but they made it to Allison’s car and eased Stiles into the back seat. He tried to hide his tears of pain and Lydia’s heart fucking broke. It wasn’t fair. It should’ve been her, not Stiles. She should have been able to stop this somehow, to protect him. Keeping Allison and Stiles safe was her responsibility and she had utterly failed.

Lydia sat in the back with Stiles as Allison sped to the hospital, but she couldn’t exactly do much to help with broken bones or internal bleeding. She helped him shrug out of the tattered remains of his shirt and used it to try to clean the blood off his face, but since most of it had dried the action seemed to hurt more than help. The redhead had to settle for gripping one of her brother’s hands for the duration of the car ride, unable to provide any relief to his pain. 

After what felt like an eternity, they made it to the ER and rushed Stiles in. Then there was the waiting. Despite his pain, his injuries weren’t life-threatening, so they had to wait to be seen by a doctor. A few hours and some scans later, and Stiles was admitted and stuck in a hospital bed with an IV for the pain. The doctor’s diagnosis was a broken nose, two broken ribs, one fractured rib, some mild internal bleeding, severe bruising on the stomach and face, and a concussion. He had to stay overnight for observation due to the concussion, but the doctor assured a fierce Lydia that her brother would be just fine in four to eight weeks. 

“Do I have to stay?” Stiles whined from his bed.

“You’re on concussion watch,” Lydia reminded him, trying not to wince at how his voice sounded due to the nose splint.

“Besides, they have the good drugs here,” Allison added.

“Mmmm, yeah, never mind, I wanna live here,” the youngest witch drawled. 

A nurse entered the room to check on Stiles. “Visiting hours end in five minutes,” she warned, examining his pupils before scribbling a note on his chart and leaving.

“Looks like we have to head out,” Allison said. “Are you gonna be okay? Is there anything you need before we go?” 

“Nah, I’m fine,” her brother responded. 

Lydia looked him over; the bruises were more prominent now, but the tightness in his face that the pain had caused was gone. “Okay, try to get some sleep.” She squeezed his hand and shot him a tired smile. It felt like this day had gone on forever. At least her family was safe now.

“Love you,” Allison said. 

“Love you, too,” their brother answered. “Now, go; enjoy your beds.” He made waving motions at them until they left the room.

Walking back to their car, Allison turned to her older sister. “Do you think Gerard’s really gonna stay away?”

Lydia mulled it over. “He stayed away for over twenty years until Chris came back. But that could’ve been because we didn’t have our powers. I’m not sure. He’s going to continue keeping an eye on us, at least. If he doesn’t step it up, that is. We’re definitely going to have to watch out for that.”

“And what about Dad? Are we just supposed to ignore the fact that he’s given up his life to keep us safe from Gerard?” 

“What do you want to do about it, Allison? Take on a network of hunters? They outnumber us and have way more experience in this than we do. And it’s not like they’re demons that we can kill anyway. Not that they have a problem killing us.”

“It’s not right. What they’re doing to Dad _or_ what they’re doing to innocent people. We’re supposed to be the Charmed Ones; there has to be something we can do to stop them.” This was the most fired up Lydia had seen Allison get about being a witch.

“I know,” she agreed with a sigh. “But we’re not strong enough yet. Look how easily Gerard almost killed one of us. Hell, he could have killed all of us. We need time to get good at this. And we have to be good to take them down.”

“What about Jordan?” Allison asked. “Do you think he could help? I mean, if Gerard is killing people, then maybe there’s a way we can take them down legally. Especially since they’re human.”

“I’d rather not get Jordan involved unless we have something solid on them,” Lydia admitted. “If he starts sniffing around, Gerard will find out. He’d kill him. And I can’t do that to him.”

“It’s kind of his job,” Allison prodded gently.

Lydia pursed her lips. “No, his job is to solve normal, human homicides. This is our job.” Allison looked like she wanted to argue, but the redhead sent her a warning look. She already failed at protecting her siblings; she couldn’t add another person to that list.

X

“Why are we stopping?” Chris asked as the car idled outside of San Francisco Memorial. It was past midnight and they had been on their way to the airport to take the Argent jet back to New York. 

“I’d rather not deal with you moping over leaving your children without a goodbye again. So you get five minutes. He’s on floor 4, Room 4052,” Gerard answered, smirking. 

Chris stared at his father, trying to deduce his motives. He never did anything out of the kindness of his heart. Gerard was also an expert manipulator; maybe this would just feed into some kind of plan he had. Not that Chris cared. Faced with the opportunity to see his son and make sure he was okay, Chris couldn’t find it in himself to try to figure out why this was a bad idea.

Gerard sent one of his thugs with him to make sure he didn’t try to escape. As if he’d risk his kids by doing something so stupid. “You’re not following me in,” Chris warned the hunter walking by his side.

The other man rolled his eyes. “I’m just here to make sure you leave after five minutes.”

Sneaking into a room long after visiting hours were over wasn’t exactly a challenge for the seasoned hunter. He watched a nurse enter the room and leave after a few minutes. Concussion watch, he thought to himself; at least this meant Stiles would be awake. Once the nurse turned her back, he easily glided through the empty area and slipped inside the hospital room. The light in the bathroom was on with the door ajar to give soft lighting to the rest of the room.

“Dad?” came a small voice from the bed.

“Hey,” Chris breathed out, rapidly approaching the hospital bed. His son looked up at him with wide, tired eyes. He looked small in the hospital bed, engulfed by the white sheets. 

“Is he here?” Stiles asked, looking around panicked. 

“No, no. Don’t worry, you’re safe now,” Chris assured his son. “He let me come say bye.”

“Oh.” Stiles breathed a sigh of relief, sinking back into his bed.

Chris slowly moved his hand forward to run his hand through his son’s hair, watching his son for any kind of negative reaction. Instead he seemed to take some comfort in it, leaning into the touch. Emotion welled up in Chris’ throat. “I am so sorry, Stiles. I didn’t think he knew. I didn’t think he would come here. He won’t come here again. I won’t give him a reason to.”

“It’s not fair. It’s like you’re a prisoner,” Stiles murmured. 

“I’m fine. It’s worth it.” He wouldn’t be able to protect his children from demons or warlocks, but he could at least keep them safe from hunters. From Gerard. “I love you.”

“I know.” Stiles shot him a small smile before yawning.

Chris’ mouth quirked up. “Shh, go to sleep. You’ll need your rest.” That’s how he used up the last of his few precious minutes with his son, running his hand through his hair as he fell back asleep, whatever medicine he was on easing the way.

The door suddenly opened and the other hunter entered the room. Chris tensed, wanting this man as far away as possible from his son.

“Time’s up.” 

“I know, I know. Just…one second.” Chris grabbed the stationary on the table near Stiles’ bed and took a minute to scribble out a note, while the other man rolled his eyes but allowed it. Once he was done writing, the hunter snatched up the notepad and read through it. 

He smirked, but dropped the note on the table. “Never knew you to be so sweet.”

“Let’s go,” Chris said, ignoring him. He dropped a light kiss on his son’s temple before steering the hunter out of the room, trying not to think about how this was the last time he would see his family. He’d be fine. He could compartmentalize. 

X

“I need you to know how sorry I am that this happened. I’ve spent the last twenty-one years trying to keep you three safe, and I almost ruined everything in one night. I’m keeping up my end of the deal this time; you won’t hear from me again, but you will be safe. I need you to stay that way. Don’t come looking for me. Just take care of yourselves. Stay together and stay safe. I love you so much,” Allison read aloud for her siblings’ benefit. Silence hung in the sunroom of the Manor. 

“It’s not fair,” Stiles said suddenly. “He wants to be in our lives. He’s always wanted to be in our lives. It’s not fair that we don’t get a dad because of some psycho.”

“It’s not fair, but it’s just the way things have to be,” Lydia reasoned. “There’s nothing we can do about it now; we have to play by Gerard’s rules on this one.”

“Did he say anything else to you last night?” Allison quickly asked to stop whatever response Stiles was sure to shoot back. Her brother had waited until they arrived home to let them know about their father’s late night visit and note.

Stiles shook his head. “Nothing that he didn’t put in that letter. He just wanted to say bye.” He grimaced, looking away. Allison felt a pang of sympathy; all of Stiles’ hopes about their father were proven true, but that only made his absence more painful. She watched her brother as he gazed at the living room from where he was sitting.

“You okay? Any pain?” she asked gently. 

He shook his head a bit, like he was trying to clear his thoughts. “No, I’m fine. The pills are working. Just kinda tired.”

“Here, let’s get you to bed. You could probably use a nap,” Lydia decided. She rose to help Stiles up, but he gently batted her hand away and got up by himself with a wince. 

“I can walk,” he chided her, before moving slowly through the living room and toward the stairs. Allison noticed his eyes focused resolutely on the staircase, as though he was avoiding looking at the living room. She couldn’t really blame him. Lydia walked with him up the stairs, hands hovering around him to help at any sign of faltering. 

She came back a few minutes later, throwing her hands up in the air exasperatedly. “He practically kicked me out of his room. Said he was fine and didn’t need any help.” She let out a frustrated noise, crossing her arms. 

“You know how he is,” Allison said with a shrug and a small smile. 

“Unfortunately,” the redhead responded dryly. “So I’ve got to get to work. I’m already pushing it with requesting the morning off during my first week. Are you gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah, I’ve got his meds schedule in the kitchen,” the brunette replied. 

“I don’t like leaving you guys here alone,” the older witch said, biting her lip. “Keep an eye out for anyone that looks like a hunter. Call the police if you think Gerard left anyone behind here.”

“You think he did?” Allison arched an eyebrow. 

“Well, I don’t trust him in the slightest. Maybe I should take the rest of the day off.” Lydia’s brow wrinkled with worry.

“No, go to work, keep your job,” Allison insisted. “I’ve got everything handled here.”

“Fine, but I’m calling Jordan. I’ll tell him Stiles was mugged—we’re gonna need a story for his injuries anyway. I’ll ask him to check around our neighborhood or something, say we’re all a little paranoid now,” Lydia responded, looking a bit calmer now.

“Sounds good,” Allison decided. “Now shoo, go to work. Focus on something other than the clusterfuck that is our lives now.” She herded Lydia out of the house, sighing when the door shut behind her. It would do her sister good to get away from this situation for a bit; Allison could practically feel the guilt and stress radiating off of her. Lydia always thought that being the oldest meant she had to keep her and Stiles safe from everything. Probably something Grams instilled in her.

The middle Stilinski sibling turned toward the kitchen. She couldn’t magically heal Stiles, though she definitely checked the Book for a spell for that. Of course, all she got for her trouble was a headache from reading the section on using magic for personal gain, which was apparently a big no-no for witches. However, she could make him some lunch and hope it would help him feel better.

X

Stiles awoke with his abdomen on fire and wondering when his bed got so hard. Taking in his surroundings, he soon noted that he was, in fact, on the floor beside his bed. Luckily, he was on the side that didn’t hold his bedside table, otherwise he would have earned himself a second concussion. The bedroom door burst open and Allison practically sprinted into the room, hands out like she was ready to freeze something at a moment’s notice. 

“Stiles?” she called out worriedly. He groaned in response and she was at his side in an instant, helping him back onto the bed. “Did you fall? Are you okay?”

“It hurts,” he gritted out, eyes screwed shut in pain. 

“Okay, just hold on a second,” she said, before running off and returning with a bottle of prescription pain medication and some water. He swallowed down a couple pills, panting slightly as he leaned against his headboard. “Hopefully those will kick in soon. I made some spaghetti; are you hungry?”

Stiles shook his head. “Maybe when it feels like I can breathe without wanting to die.” Allison sat beside him on the bed, unknowingly echoing their father by stroking his hair soothingly. He sighed and leaned into her touch. 

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“I woke up on the floor.” He would have shrugged, but not moving seemed like a safer option.

“I know you’re a restless sleeper, but that’s not exactly normal for you. Bad dream?” his sister posited.

He made a noncommittal sound. “Stiles,” she prodded.

The younger witch huffed. “It was just a bad dream.” He could feel his sister’s eyes on him. Allison didn’t push quite like Lydia did, but she had a knack for drawing things out from him anyway. Not right now, though; he didn’t want to talk about his dream. About Gerard coming back and making him watch as the hunter tortured and killed his sisters. He didn’t need to relive that. “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Allison conceded. “Lydia had to go to work, but she called to tell me Jordan might stop by later, so if you hear someone at the door, don’t worry.”

“I’m not scared or anything,” Stiles insisted. “I won’t freak out if someone rings the bell.” Although the very thought of someone at the door brought back images of Adam attempting to appear the innocent neighbor. Of him forcing his way into the house. He was so strong, stronger than Stiles. 

“I know,” his sister responded. “I just want to keep the surprises in this house at a minimum.”

“What did she tell him, anyway?”

“That you were mugged and they stole your wallet with your license, so we’re worried about them knowing where we live,” Allison said, shrugging slightly.

“We didn’t file a report,” her brother pointed out.

“Yeah, Lydia thought about it, but since we’re probably being watched in some way, we don’t want Gerard to take it as some kind of move against him. Laying low seemed like a better idea,” Allison admitted. She hated that they were under some kind of surveillance. That they’d apparently always been watched by hunters. 

Stiles nodded at that, hands unconsciously squeezing into fists. The brunet jolted a bit when he felt hands gently covering his and looked up. “Hey, you can talk to me,” Allison said gently.

“I just…I’m so fucking mad, Ally,” Stiles confessed. “This shouldn’t have even happened. It’s all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, drawing back in confusion.

“Lydia’s been pushing me to take more martial arts classes and I practically laughed her off. I was so fucking stupid,” he continued, shaking his head. “Gerard only sent one guy after me. That’s all it took. I could barely even fight back. If I had prepared more, like Lydia’s been telling me to, then this wouldn’t have even happened. Maybe we could’ve stopped Gerard. Dad wouldn’t have had to go back with him.”

“Stiles, no,” Allison responded forcefully. “That’s not even close to fair. We’ve barely been witches a few weeks. There’s no way you could have learned to fight a fully trained hunter in that time, no matter how hard you worked. And even if you had beat him, Gerard has too many hunters working for him. He would’ve sent someone else. There’s nothing any of us could have done.”

Stiles looked away. Easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one who their dad promised what seemed like his only leverage away to save. “I should’ve been stronger. If it had been you or Lydia…you guys could’ve beat him. Could’ve gotten away. I’m the weak link.”

“You’re not weak, Stiles. You have a passive power, but it’s just as important as ours. And we’re all going to get stronger. It just takes time,” Allison tried to reassure him.

“If my power is so important, then why didn’t I see them coming? Gerard and his hunters. What is the point in seeing the future when I couldn’t even see this coming?” he demanded, shaking slightly. He was the most useless witch ever.

“My freezes don’t last a minute yet. Lydia’s telekinesis isn’t very strong. Your visions can be erratic. All of our powers are limited right now. But they won’t be forever.” She sighed, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I would give anything to be able to turn back time and prevent it. But don’t blame yourself. The only person we can blame is Gerard. And we’ll stop him one day, Stiles. I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” he whispered, wishing he could just shut up and believe everything his sister was telling him.

“Yes, I do. We’re the Charmed Ones, right? Maybe we’re not ready to take him on yet, but we will be one day. And we’re going to make him pay for everything he’s done to our family.” One of Stiles’ high school boyfriends had once referred to Allison as a Disney princess compared to her siblings, and Stiles could see that she certainly was; underneath her sweet nature was the iron will of a fighter. “Now, you need some food. I’ll grab your lunch.” And there was that sweet nature at the forefront again.

X

Jordan Parrish drove slowly down Prescott Street, keeping an eye out for anyone loitering or acting strange. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he went ahead and parked outside the Stilinski Manor. When Lydia had told him about the mugging he urged her to get Stiles to file an official report with the police, but apparently he refused. Which didn’t sound much like Stiles, to be honest. The inspector cast another glance around the street before ringing the Manor’s doorbell. Moments later Allison opened the door with a warm smile.

“Hey, Jordan,” she greeted him.

“Hey, how are you doing? Seen anyone hanging around?” he asked. Muggers didn’t tend to follow their victims home for a second round, but Lydia had sounded pretty worried on the phone.

“No, I haven’t seen anyone,” the brunette responded somewhat sheepishly. “I bet you think we’re all crazy.”

“No, I think that something terrifying happened to your brother and you’re all on edge. Which is completely normal,” Jordan assured her. 

“Thanks, I really do feel better knowing you came by. Do you want some coffee? Or lunch? I made spaghetti,” Allison offered. 

Jordan chuckled. “I wish, but I’m still on the clock, so I can’t really stop for lunch. I was wondering if I could see Stiles, though.”

Allison looked hesitant. “He’s on pain meds, so he’s a little fuzzy right now.”

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” he insisted. 

“Well, okay, come on in,” she responded, moving to let him enter the house. She led him up the familiar staircase and down the hall to Stiles’ room. “Hey, Stiles, you’ve got a visitor.”

The younger man turned away from the television he was watching to look at the doorway and, wow, he looked rough. Dark bruises marred his face, his nose was splinted, and his every movement was stiff. “Jordan?”

“Hey, Stiles,” the inspector replied gently, walking into the room. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine. Or at least I will be,” the brunet responded. He attempted a smile, but it seemed to pain him. 

“I’m sure you’ll be bouncing back in no time,” Jordan agreed cheerfully. “Lydia told me what happened. It must have been awful.”

Stiles shot him an unreadable stare for a moment. “Yeah, it was. But I’m fine now.”

“Right, but we can get the guys who did this, Stiles,” the older man began carefully. “You don’t have to be scared of them.”

“Jordan,” Allison said warningly from the doorway. 

He ignored the brunette and continued, “You don’t want these guys to get away with this, right? They can hurt someone else. You can help put them away.”

“No,” the youngest Stilinski responded instantly. “I’m not reporting this. I didn’t get a good look at them anyway, so I couldn’t describe them. It would be useless.”

“Stiles, I get that you’re scared, but—” 

“I said _no_ ,” Stiles interrupted. 

Jordan stared at him. How could he not want these guys in jail? They had his wallet; they knew where he lived. Obviously, he and his sisters were worried about that. Yet none of them seemed particularly interested in doing something substantial about it. Allison moved forward and touched his arm lightly, jerking her head to the door. 

He took the hint. “Well, let me know if you change your mind. I hope you feel better soon.” Stiles nodded and said a quiet “thanks” as Jordan followed the older Stilinski sibling out of the room.

“I don’t understand why you won’t convince him to file a police report,” he exclaimed as they walked downstairs. “He’s scared; I get that, believe me. But this would _help_.”

“Jordan, I understand what you’re saying, but we really don’t think going to the police will help, okay? Just trust us on this,” the brunette answered with a sigh. He took a moment to study her face.

“You know who did this,” he realized. 

“What? No, it was just a random mugging,” she responded, looking surprised. 

“I’m really good at my job, Allison. I know when people are lying to me,” he said. “You can trust me. We grew up together; you guys are family. Stiles was hurt. Badly. And it could have been so much worse than that. Just let me know what’s going on.”

“Jordan,” she began, her face softening. “I can’t tell you what’s going on. Just…this was a one-time thing and there’s nothing you or the police can do about it. Thank you for worrying about us, but we’re going to be fine. Really.”

“I hope that’s true,” Jordan responded, enveloping Allison in a tight hug. They said their farewells and Jordan headed to his car. He was torn; on one hand, he respected Lydia and her family enough to want to stay out of their business when they asked him to, but on the other hand, if they were in danger he had to help. His cop instincts were screaming at him to figure out what was doing on and _do_ something about it. 

It didn’t help that he’d been feeling like Lydia was hiding something ever since they got back together. It just felt sometimes like she was editing stories. Like when she talked about how her relationship with Stiles had dramatically improved after he got back from New York. 

Then of course there was the way her face always tightened when he mentioned the serial killer targeting women in San Francisco. It had been weeks since he last struck and the case was going cold, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the occult-style slayings. Normally he would attribute her discomfort with his comments about the case to being uncomfortable with the idea of a serial killer in the city, but her face had taken on the same look when he had asked her what happened to Allison’s ex-boyfriend. Something just wasn’t right.

Maybe if he wasn’t a cop he wouldn’t have noticed, but he did notice. Lydia was hiding something. Something related to her family. And Jordan knew that she didn’t owe him anything and that everyone had their secrets, but this secret seemed to have gotten Stiles pretty badly hurt. What if Lydia was next? What if these people didn’t stop at a beating? Could he really live with himself if something bad happened to her? But shouldn’t he trust her to come to him for help if she needed it? Lydia Stilinski was not one to risk her siblings’ safety. With a sigh and a divided mind, Jordan vowed to keep an eye out for whatever it was she was hiding, but he wouldn’t actively go searching for it. Not yet, anyway.

X

Lydia’s boss had been surprisingly understanding of their situation and let her work from home the last couple days of the work week since Allison couldn’t get the time off to stay home with Stiles. He tried to protest her disrupting her work schedule, but he couldn’t help the relief—or the subsequent shame—he felt when she insisted on staying home while he still had so much trouble moving. 

By the time Monday rolled around, though, Stiles had gotten a better handle on taking care of himself and Lydia really needed to go into the office. Allison was able to postpone going into work for a few hours, but the assistant manager had recently quit and the manager had decided to dump all the work he left on the only chef with a business degree. Naturally. So she couldn’t take any more time off for a while. 

Stiles had waved off his sisters’ worries and adamantly insisted he would be fine staying home alone. His injuries were starting to heal, and while he wouldn’t be back to normal for a few weeks, he wasn’t an invalid. There’d been no sign of lingering hunters in the last few days, but the Stilinskis were still tense. Who knew how Gerard was keeping track of them?

“Call me if you need anything. Or Lydia; she gets off work in a few hours, but I’m closing tonight,” Allison reminded Stiles for the millionth time, hovering in his doorway. 

“Ally, I’ll be fine. You should go; you don’t want to be late,” the younger witch responded, trying to smile nonchalantly. 

Allison shot him a worried smile. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Love you!” 

“Love you, too,” he called out as she left. Stiles closed his eyes and strained his ears to hear her go down the stairs. Moments later, the door opened and closed. He was alone. His heart started beating faster at the thought. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He’d be fine; he was used to staying here alone. The hunters had left; he was safe.

Stiles tried to distract himself by watching television, but he couldn’t stop the nervous energy thrumming within him. What was that scratching noise? He quickly turned off the TV and looked around for something that could have cause the noise. Nothing. Everything was quiet. Must have been the TV. He let out a sigh and couldn’t bring himself to turn it back on; what if someone got in the house and he couldn’t hear it over the television? Better not risk it. 

Stiles grabbed his laptop and tried to search for something to do, but he just kept _hearing_ things. Was that the sound of something moving? Or was it just the wind blowing on the house? Of course, the Manor was pretty old; it could have just been the house naturally creaking. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine. There’s no one here but me, and I’m just being paranoid,” the witch whispered to himself, closing his eyes and attempting to breathe deeply and calmly. His eyes suddenly shot open; was that a thud downstairs? Stiles slowly rose from the bed, minding his broken ribs. His heart was pounding and his hands were sweaty, but he grabbed the old baseball bat he had started keeping near his bed and made his way downstairs cautiously. Upon reaching the foyer, he found nothing out of the ordinary. He gritted his teeth and moved slowly into the living room. Empty as well.

But it hadn’t been. They had tied Stiles up here. In his own home, where he was supposed to feel the safest. And they had _hurt_ him. He had thought he was going to die. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t fucking breathe. Distantly, Stiles felt the baseball bat slip out of his hand and his knees hit the floor. He gasped for air, but it wasn’t working; something was wrong, he was _broken_. He was going to die. It didn’t matter that Gerard had spared him; Stiles was still going to die here. His last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was that his sisters were going to find his body here.

X

Stiles shot up, gasping for air. Pain ripped across his abdomen as he panted desperately. He must have passed out. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed three times, marking the hour. Three o’clock. He wasn’t even out for an hour. His breathing calmed slightly and he winced as he used the coffee table to leverage himself up. Time for another pain pill. He made his way into the kitchen, determinedly not thinking about his panic attack. He was fine. He just needed his medicine. 

The witch gulped down some water to help swallow his pills and sighed, sinking into a seat at the kitchen table. Lydia would be home in few hours. Everything was fine. Stiles sat, resting his forehead at the table for a few minutes. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. His head shot up and he searched the room wildly for some kind of eyes on him. Nothing. He was alone. Of course he was. But his heartbeat picked up again, his hands trembled, and tears pricked at his eyes again. He couldn’t be here; he just couldn’t. 

Stiles rose and moved as quickly as he could back upstairs. He grabbed his phone and wallet, and then left the Manor hurriedly. The second he was outside, it felt like he could breathe easily again. He needed to get out of here.

X

“Stiles?” When she heard a knock on her office door, Lydia certainly wasn’t expecting her pale, nervous-looking brother to be on the other side. He was supposed to be resting at home. Was it the hunters? Were they back? “What happened? Are you okay?”

He sent her a faltering smile. “I’m fine. Can’t a guy just want to see his sister’s new office? It’s nice.”

“And any other time, I’d be happy to offer you a tour of the auction house. But your doctor said you need to rest. You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“No, I took an Uber,” he responded sheepishly, sinking into the seat in front of her desk.

“That must’ve been pricey,” she commented, looking him up and down. Something must have happened. Something he wasn’t telling her.

“Yeah, I know. I just got really bored. You know me,” he answered, looking uncomfortable. “I can leave; I don’t want to bother you.”

“No, you might as well stay until I get off. I can drive you back home,” Lydia decided. At least she can make sure he doesn’t do anything to exacerbate his injuries here.

“Really? Thanks,” her brother said, badly hidden relief lighting up his face. 

She considered him for a moment before opening the bottom drawer of her desk. “Here, keep yourself entertained while I work.” She handed him her personal laptop and went back to reading the authentication report for the Monet painting Harris’ Auctions had landed. Lydia couldn’t help but get distracted watching Stiles from over the report. He was occupied with whatever he was doing on the computer, and for the first time since he entered the office he seemed relaxed. Or, at least, not on edge. 

The bruises on his face were finally starting to look a bit better, but her hatred of Gerard bloomed at the very sight of them. Lydia knew they weren’t supposed to hurt humans; that’s not what their powers were for. But she recalled her vow to kill Gerard if he killed her brother, and despite Stiles surviving the hunter…if she ever had the chance to take out Gerard, she’s not so sure she wouldn’t take it. She wanted him to pay for what he did to Stiles. For what he did to their dad and their lives.

Lydia spent _years_ hating her father. Now that she knew what had really happened, why he really left…she just didn’t know how to feel. The hurt was too deep; the anger had been rooted in her for so long. She knew it wasn’t really his fault, now, but that didn’t erase the last twenty-one years of thinking it was. Of _feeling_ that it was. And it was clear her father was no saint; he had used some kind of magic to erase Stiles’ memory and tried to steal the Book, to rob them of their destiny. But he gave up his freedom for them. Lydia didn’t know how to process that kind of sacrifice. Not from the man she thought left them. She was getting a headache just thinking about this whole mess.

The redhead sighed, putting down the file and pulling out her phone. No new texts from Jordan.

“Something wrong?” her brother asked, looking up from the computer. 

“No, everything’s fine. Just a little bored,” she responded with a reassuring smile. Stiles shrugged and returned to his internet browsing. He didn’t need to know about the tension his injuries had added to her relationship. Jordan wasn’t stupid; he knew Lydia was hiding something important from him. He was doing his best to let it be, but it just wasn’t in his nature. Especially when her secret involved her brother being so badly hurt. There was a distance between them now and Lydia didn’t know if it was something they could get past. At least, not without him knowing she was a witch. 

She’d thought about telling him, of course she had. Even though it had been years since they last dated, she trusted him. They grew up together as best friends before they got together; that kind of bond doesn’t just go away. But telling him put him in danger. People were safer not knowing about the supernatural. If he accepted Lydia as a witch, then he would want to be involved, and he could get himself killed. If he didn’t accept her magic, well…it would be better than him dying, at least. Maybe she should just end things now, before things got more serious and it hurt them both more. 

X

Allison was exhausted by the time she got home from work. She thought this chef position was going to be the beginning of her dream career, but she’s barely cooked since she started. She began to walk toward the stairs, intent on a hot shower and some much-needed sleep, but was stopped by the sight of her older sister sitting in the living room.

“What do you think about re-decorating?” the redhead asked, looking around the room.

“Um, I don’t think about re-decorating,” Allison responded in confusion. 

“I think we should re-paint. Maybe get some new furniture in here,” Lydia said. “What do you think? Peach? Maybe more of a sand color?”

“I think we have a lot more to worry about than décor,” the brunette answered dryly, wondering what the hell had gotten into her sister.

“Actually, I think a change in décor is exactly what we need,” Lydia countered, finally making eye contact with her sister. “Stiles came by to see me today. He said that he was bored, but he looked…spooked. And when we got back here, he couldn’t even look at this room. Just went straight upstairs. I don’t think he was ready to stay here alone yet.”

Allison sighed, cursing her own stupidity. She’d been so worried about Stiles being able to look after himself with all his injuries that she hadn’t spared much thought to his mindset right now. He certainly seemed fine and had acted mostly normal, but he was attacked in his own home. Five days wasn’t enough to erase that from his mind. “Shit. Where is he?” 

“He went to bed early.” Lydia looked contemplative. “We can’t stay home during the week, but we can’t just leave him here, either.”

“He can come with me to Quake,” Allison offered.

“A busy restaurant doesn’t exactly promote healing. He should be resting, but I doubt he’s going to get much rest staying here alone.” Lydia let out a sigh of frustration, flopping down onto the couch with less than her usual grace. 

“So Quake it is then,” Allison reasoned. “He’s not gonna like this.”

Lydia grimaced. “We just have to phrase it right.”

Allison snorted. “You can phrase it however you want, he’s gonna see right through it.”

X

“You want me to come to work with you so you can babysit me?” Stiles asked the next morning, arching an eyebrow.

“Not babysit,” Lydia disagreed, rolling her eyes. “We just think it’s better that you’re with one of us until you’re fully healed. It’s safer.”

“Because I’ve got no active power and now I can’t even fight or run away,” Stiles added glumly, looking down at his toast.

“You’re injured; it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Allison corrected. “Come on, you can keep me company so I don’t gouge my eyes out to avoid more paperwork. You’ll be doing me a favor.”

Stiles sighed; it was a nice spin, but Lydia must have seen right through him yesterday. He was grateful that they at least pretended he wasn’t a coward. He hadn’t even lasted one day at home before running off to Lydia. “Sure. I guess it beats sitting around here.”

So Stiles spent the next four weeks going to Quake with Allison for most of her shifts, only staying home when one of his sisters was off. He quickly got used to the wide-eyed looks of pity from the Quake staff and customers when they saw his face, and learned to avoid looking in the mirror and seeing the evidence of his weakness. Slowly, he healed. The bruises on his face and abdomen faded with time. His nose splint got taken out after a week or so, and had fully healed after a few weeks. The ribs were still tender, and he had to be careful with his movements, but he was off the pain meds. 

Of course, he still couldn’t bring himself to sit in the living room. Or even walk through it if he could avoid it. Stiles was sure his sisters had noticed his aversion to the room by now, but they didn’t say anything. At least not directly.

“So I was thinking of hiring someone to re-paint the living room and do some work around the house. We never did get the chandelier fixed,” Lydia announced one Saturday morning over breakfast.

“Re-paint the living room?” Stiles echoed.

“Yeah, the furniture is pretty outdated, and if we’re getting new furniture, then we might as well fix up the room,” Lydia responded casually. 

“You don’t have to do that,” the youngest sibling said quietly, not meeting his sister’s eyes.

“Of course I do, it’s getting embarrassing how out of style that room is. How can I invite people over? What would they think of me?” the redhead replied breezily. 

“I guess we can have someone come in the mornings before my shift starts. That’s a few hours of work a day. It might take a while for everything to get done, but it’ll work,” Allison said with a shrug, biting into her bagel.

Stiles sighed. “Or I could just stay home.” His sisters stopped what they were doing and fixed him with identical scrutinizing stares. “I mean, I’m mostly healed now, right? No need for me to keep bothering Allison at work.”

“You don’t bother me,” Allison corrected. 

“Well, I don’t need you to babysit me, either. I’m gonna have to get used to being here alone sometime, right?” Stiles argued. As much as he dreaded the idea, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life following his big sister to work. And the nightmares had leveled off; that was a good sign, right?

“Yeah, but with a stranger?” Allison asked, skeptically. 

“Actually, I already contacted a company to hire a handyman. They vet their guys really well, so it should be safe,” Lydia inputted, looking like she was thinking it over. 

“See? Totally safe,” Stiles responded, heart-rate already rising at the thought. “Besides, if I’m gonna mooch off you guys, then I should at least be useful around the house.”

“Are you sure about this? Because I really don’t mind you coming to Quake. You’re pretty helpful, to be honest.” Allison bit her lip, and as much as Stiles loved her for her concern, he knew he had to do this. He had to at least try. He was supposed to be a Charmed One, and he needed to act like it.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s time, y’know?” Stiles answered, hands clamming up. “So who is this guy?”

Lydia looked thoughtful over a spoonful of parfait. “His name’s Scott McCall. He can start Monday.” Okay. Scott McCall. He could handle this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some complicated feelings about this chapter. I feel like it sets certain things up more than anything else. Ugh, okay, I'll stop thinking about it. So, yay, a Scott mention. He'll make his way into the next chapter, don't worry. The next chapter will be based off a Charmed episode, but it'll continue with the plots I've set up, so we'll see how it goes. Just don't expect the Argent conflict to be resolved for a while; in fact, you probably won't be seeing them for some time. As much as I love Chris, he would interfere with Lydia, Allison, and Stiles growing into their powers/destiny. 
> 
> Anyway, thoughts, opinions, and suggestions are always welcome!


	5. IED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, my longest chapter yet. It's a mix of a continuation of my original plot and a Charmed episode, so have fun with that.

The Manor doorbell rang Monday morning and Stiles felt his heart drop into his stomach. Showtime.

Lydia moved ahead of her brother, opening the door cautiously. Standing on their doorstep was a Latino man in his mid to late twenties with somewhat messy hair, a slightly crooked jaw, and kind brown eyes. The man shot them a wide, easy smile. “Hi, I’m Scott McCall. You must be the Stilinskis, right?”

“Mind if I see some ID first?” Lydia demanded, not unkindly. 

“Sure thing!” the handsome handyman chirped, pulling out his wallet and showing them his driver’s license. Stiles examined it carefully; he lived off of fake IDs as a teenager, but this one looked real to him. He nodded at Lydia, who carefully examined Scott before politely smiling, “Well, I’m Lydia and this is Stiles. Come on in; I want to show you some paint samples I had in mind before I head to work.”

The handyman walked into the house and listened with rapt attention as Lydia detailed her thoughts on how she wanted the living room re-done, offering up some suggestions based on his experience. Stiles stood in the foyer, listening to the two talk; Lydia sounded unexpectedly interested in what Scott was saying, so he must have been good at his job. 

Stiles turned to the stairs upon hearing footsteps. Allison, already dressed and ready to go, explained, “There’s some kind of issue with the freezer, so I have to go in early. Is the handyman here already?”

“Yeah, him and Lydia are gushing over paint or something,” Stiles responded with a roll of his eyes, fighting back the nausea at the idea of his sisters both leaving soon. 

Allison opened her mouth to respond, but the sudden ringing of her phone interrupted. “Hello, yes I’m—Sheila, calm down. Wait, wait, I need to write this down.” She grabbed a notepad from the table near the house phone, but groaned in frustration when the accompanying pen wouldn’t write. 

“Need a pen?” a voice arose from behind Stiles. He flinched and spun around, but it was just Scott holding out said writing utensil with a gentle smile. For a moment, Allison and Scott just stared at each other, but Stiles heard a squawk on the other end of the phone, and Allison mouthed a “thank you” to the handyman as she accepted the pen and scrawled out whatever information Sheila was relaying.

“Okay, okay, I got it. I’ll be in soon,” the brunette promised, before sighing and ending the call. “That was Sheila, we apparently got some last-minute catering deal from a very rich client, so now I _really_ need to go in.” She then seemed to remember someone else was there. “Uh, hi, I’m Allison.”

“Scott. Nice to meet you,” the man greeted her cheerfully. Cue the staring between the two again.

“Didn’t you just say you needed to go?” Lydia asked, arching an eyebrow.

Allison blushed. “Yeah, okay, I’m going now. Bye!” She squeezed Stiles’ shoulder and sent him a meaningful look on her way out. 

Lydia shook her head slightly, looking amused. “So as I was saying,” she began, dragging Scott back to the living room for more shop talk. The poor man looked slightly dazed. From meeting Allison or from Lydia talking his ear off, Stiles wasn’t quite sure which. He headed to the kitchen, intent on devouring some caffeine. When he finally had a cup of coffee brewed in front of him, Lydia entered the room.

“Okay, I have to head to work. Are you sure you want to stay home? We can tell Scott today’s not a good day to start,” the redhead offered. And Stiles was so very tempted.

“No,” he sighed. “I should stay here. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Lydia looked at him like she could tell his heart was about to thud right out of his chest. “You should go; you don’t want to be late.” 

She huffed and reached up to ruffle his hair. “Fine, I’m going. Call if you need anything.”

Stiles nodded, and she turned to leave. Hearing the front door shut, Stiles breathed in deeply. He was fine. He was totally fine. The young witch walked into the foyer, peeked at Scott taking some kind of measurements in the living room, and fled up the stairs. He killed a few hours on Netflix with only a couple of near panic attacks before his stomach started to rumble. Okay, so time for lunch, then. No big deal, Stiles would just go downstairs and offer Scott a sandwich or something. He could do that. He’d already lasted hours in the house without his sisters. He was fine.

The witch slowly made his way down the stairs, anxiety increasing as he went. He stopped by the entrance to the living room where Scott had moved the furniture away from the walls and begun the primer layer. “Hey, I’m about to make some lunch. You hungry? Or you can go take a break if you want; whatever floats your boat.” That sounded like something a normal, calm person would say, right?

The handyman straightened and flashed him a toothy smile. “Hey, Stiles. You read my mind; I was just getting hungry.”

Stiles chuckled. Well, he tried to anyway. What came out of his mouth was more of a choked off sound than anything else. His eyes drifted to the chair that Scott had moved closer to the entryway to keep away from the paint. Stiles had been tied up to that chair. He had thought he was going to die in that chair. That whoever came to take his body away would have to cut him away from that chair. 

The air in the room seemed to thin. Scott was saying something, the witch thought distantly, but he couldn’t understand him. He couldn’t even breathe. Stiles backed up, trying to get as far away from that room and that _chair_ as possible, but it felt like he was moving through molasses. He fell to the floor, clutching at the foyer table for support. His chest heaved as he tried to suck in oxygen, but things were getting blurry and his chest was _burning_. 

Suddenly a face appeared in his line of vision, blurry, but not unfamiliar. Scott’s words were indecipherable over his gasps and the sudden rushing sound in his skull, but his voice was soothing. The handyman grasped one of Stiles’ hands and placed it on his chest. Stiles stared at his hand and then at Scott, trying to focus on what he was saying. He squinted, his eyesight wavering, but Scott was speaking exaggeratedly, so he was able to read his lips. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. Stiles absently noted his hand on Scott’s chest moving in time with the count.

Blackness crept into the edges of his vision, but he tried to stop gasping, tried to breathe along. One, two, three. One, two, three. It helped. The simple act of focusing his breathing, of counting, helped. He tried to even his breathing, but couldn’t help gasping between some of the beats. It took several minutes, but Scott patiently breathed with him, counting off each one calmly. He could hear him, Stiles realized as he continued to count his breaths, he could hear Scott counting now. One, two, three. One, two, three. 

The witch sighed, slumping against the foyer table as he was finally able to breathe easily again. “Thanks,” he said roughly, when he felt able to speak.

Scott waved off his gratitude. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen a panic attack like that in a while.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was nothing,” Stiles lied, knowing as he did so that he didn’t sound the least bit convincing. He couldn’t help it; he felt completely drained of energy. At least he hadn’t passed out this time.

“We both know that wasn’t nothing,” Scott gently countered. Stiles looked up defiantly, expecting a pitying look, but the handyman just looked concerned. 

“I’m fine,” the witch repeated, a bit more forcefully. He used the table to push himself up but ruined whatever effect he had cultivated by wobbling as soon as he let go of the support. 

Scott reached out a hand to steady him. “Come on, you should sit down.” 

The handyman tried to lead Stiles toward the living room, but the younger man flinched away and let out a strangled, “No!” Scott quickly reversed direction, helping Stiles toward the stairs instead, and the two sunk down on the steps. The witch sighed, rubbing his face wearily. Great, just great. He’d fucked up again. 

“It’s okay, y’know. People get panic attacks. Anxiety is nothing to be ashamed of,” Scott said quietly.

“I don’t have anxiety,” Stiles corrected automatically, before thinking better of it. “Okay, well I don’t have that kind of anxiety. Not normally.”

“Sometimes it can help to talk about it. Especially with a stranger,” Scott suggested. “You don’t have to, but it might make you feel better.”

Stiles snorted. “What are you, a therapist?”

“No, just a pair of ears for anyone who needs to talk,” the handyman responded. Stiles almost did a double take; who even said that kind of bullshit? But when he looked over at Scott, the guy just looked so damn earnest. He had puppy dog eyes to rival any child.

“I…something bad happened here. To me,” the witch found himself saying. “I was hurt by some…bad guys. In the living room. And I just can’t go in there anymore. Even looking at it’s just…not good.” Stiles stopped, shutting his eyes and shaking his head, trying to erase the memories this was dredging up. It was fine. He was fine. “It’s why we’re re-doing the room. I think Lydia thinks it will help me. Maybe it will.” He shrugged, embarrassed now for spilling all this to a stranger.

“New furniture and a paint job will make the room look different, but it won’t erase what happened there,” Scott gently pointed out. “I think your sister is right that it will help, but the root of your anxiety, of your panic attacks isn’t the room itself.”

“So what should I do?” the witch asked quietly, feeling desperate for any kind of relief.

“Talk to your family. Talk to a therapist, if you think you need it,” Scott began. “Find something to focus on; it will help anchor you.” The handyman hesitated for a moment before adding, “If possible, face what you’re anxious about. And I don’t mean going on some kind of revenge quest. Open yourself up to the world again. Don’t let them win.”

“You sure you’re not a therapist?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I just like helping people,” Scott responded with a shrug and a smile. “I’m glad I was here today.”

“Me, too,” Stiles admitted, internally shocked at how relaxed he was in the other man’s presence. After Adam, he wasn’t sure he could be around strangers so easily. But there was something just so pure about Scott, like he really meant what he said. He cleared his throat, deciding things had been heavy long enough. “So I think all that gasping took a lot of energy because now I’m _starving_. I’m ordering a pizza; what do you want on it?”

“Anything except onions or pineapples,” Scott responded, easily moving with the change in topic. 

“You don’t like Hawaiian pizza? Heathen,” the witch huffed with mock indignation. “Meat lovers it is, then.” He pulled himself up, glad to find he had steadied a bit, and went off to phone in the order.

X

When Lydia arrived home, she was worried about what state she’d find her brother in. She certainly didn’t expect to hear boisterous laughter coming from the sunroom. She marched in the room to find Scott and Stiles sitting together on the couch and watching something on Stiles’ computer, an empty pizza box a few feet away.

“Do it, to it, Lars,” Stiles quoted, positively giggling at this point. Lydia saw the exact moment Scott noticed her presence because he went from laughing along to jumping up with a nervous expression.

“Something tells me the living room is going to take a bit longer that we thought it would,” she remarked wryly.

“Oh, I am so sorry. I know this is completely unprofessional, but I lost track of time after lunch and—” Scott began.

“It’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, waving off the explanation. He turned to Lydia. “I totally distracted him. It’s not his fault at all.”

“Well, of course you did,” the redhead responded airily. “You could make a career out of distracting others.” Stiles stuck his tongue out, and Lydia was struck by the change in him in just a few short hours. If Scott had played any part in this, then he deserved a bonus. “Don’t worry, Scott, I don’t blame you in the slightest.”

“Really, I’m so sorry,” the handyman repeated sheepishly. “I should get going, but I promise I’ll work extra hard tomorrow!”

“Not if Stiles is around,” Lydia said with a delicate snort. “But the thought is nice.”

“Rude,” the brunet muttered from his seat on the couch.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I’ll walk you out.” She led the man to the Manor door but stopped him before he left. “Whatever you did today, thank you.” 

“Just doing my job,” the man answered brightly, but he nodded slightly like he knew exactly what she meant. “Have a nice night.”

“You too,” the redhead replied. Once the door closed, she turned on her heel and walked to the sunroom to observe her brother. 

“What?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“Does someone have a crush?” Lydia asked in a sing-song voice. “Because I’m pretty sure Allison called dibs with her eyes this morning.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yes, I was there, too. And Scott is totally straight.” He paused and looked away. “He’s just…nice, okay?”

“Yeah, it looks like it,” the older witch agreed, tone turning more serious. “So how was today?”

Her brother shrugged. “Fine. Sorry I distracted him.”

“Just fine? Nothing happened?” the redhead pressed. 

The brunet swallowed nervously. “I…I had a panic attack. Earlier. In the living room.”

Lydia blinked in surprise. She hadn’t actually expected him to say anything other than he was fine again. “Oh. Are you okay? Why didn’t you call me?” She started running through the symptoms of panic disorders in her head. Stiles had _seemed_ alright the last few weeks. Maybe a little jumpier than normal, but that was to be expected after what had happened. Was this PTSD? Why hadn’t she kept up with psychology after that college course forever ago? 

“I’m fine. Uh, Scott was here and he actually really helped calm me down,” Stiles replied, shrugging. “I didn’t see the point in bothering you at work. Again.”

Realization dawned upon Lydia. “Last month, when you came to see me. Did you have a panic attack?” Stiles shrugged again and looked away uncomfortably. “Stiles!”

“Kinda? It wasn’t that bad,” her brother offered sheepishly. “I just couldn’t be here. It was like the paranoia was dialed up to ten and I just freaked out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” the redhead asked gently. How long had this been going on? How had she not realized how badly he was doing? All she had bothered to do was change up the living room.

“Oh I don’t know, because it’s humiliating?” the younger witch shot back, huffing out a humorless laugh. “Because you’re super-witch and I’m completely useless? I couldn’t defend myself from hunters, and now I can’t even...” He stopped and rubbed his face, taking a deep breath. “I’ll be fine, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

Lydia moved to sit with him on the couch. “Hey, it’s my job to worry about you. But I’ll worry less if you just talk to me. Tell me what’s going on, Stiles. I can’t help you if you don’t.”

“I can’t stop picturing it. Every time I walk in the living room, it’s like I’m living it again. For a while I couldn’t stop dreaming about it. Or about Gerard coming back. Those were the worst, I think, because I can’t tell if they’re just dreams or premonitions. And that terrifies me,” Stiles admitted, closing his eyes. “I’m so fucking scared, Lyds. Most of the time, I can push it away and think about something else. Especially if I’m with you or Allison. But when I’m here alone, it’s so much harder. I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know what to do.”

Lydia’s heart ached as she gathered her brother into a gentle hug. “Well, it starts with this. With not hiding this anymore. It’s okay to be scared, Stiles. I’m scared, too. I’m terrified that he’ll come back to finish what he started. That he’ll hurt Allison, too. I’m scared that Chris is going to die and Gerard won’t feel the need to keep up his end of the deal anymore. But I’m working on that. We can work on it together.”

“How?” Stiles asked quietly, pulling away to look at her.

“By getting our lives back. We can’t let fear rule our lives. I was terrified to go to work for those first few days. After what happened, I didn’t want to leave you alone again. But I went and it felt like I won, at least a little bit,” Lydia explained. It felt like she had reclaimed a bit of that security that Gerard had stolen from her. Like returning to work, to some kind of normal life, was the beginning of the road to feeling safe again. And she’d do whatever she could to help Stiles get on that road, too.

X

Stiles sighed softly as he laid a hand on the Book of Shadows the next day. He hadn’t been up to the attic since he had futilely searched for protection spells the day after he got out of the hospital. After what happened…being a witch just didn’t seem as fun. He slowly flipped through the pages of the Book. Took in the hand-drawn illustrations of demons, warlocks, and monsters. If the hunters didn’t get them, then one of these guys would. Maybe their dad had been right; maybe they would be better off without their powers. 

Stiles gently closed the Book, trying to ignore the pang he felt at the mere memory of his father. Scott had told him to face his anxiety, and Lydia had told him to work on overcoming his fears. But maybe he should start with something a little more mundane. The brunet strode out of the attic with a new plan in mind.

X

“Are we still on for tonight?” Jordan asked, shuffling papers around on his desk to find a witness statement. 

“Of course we are,” Lydia responded, on the other end of the phone. “You, me, and a romantic movie. I’ve got wine.”

“As long as it’s not The Notebook again,” Jordan said absentmindedly, flipping through a file for that damn witness statement. Silence. “Lydia, we’re not watching The Notebook again!” His partner rolled his eyes from a nearby desk.

“Come on, you love The Notebook! You’ve seen it at least four times!” came the cheerful response.

“Because you’ve _made_ me watch it four times,” Jordan corrected. 

“You’re killing me, Parrish,” his partner said. Jordan flipped him off, then fist pumped when he found the file he was looking for.

“Well, it’s not like we’re going to be paying particularly close attention to it anyway,” Lydia said in a low voice. 

Jordan bit his lip, arousal curling in his belly. “Yeah, okay, I can do The Notebook.” He ignored the triumphant laughter of his girlfriend. “But I gotta go before Boyd kills me.” The couple said their goodbyes and the inspector hung up.

“You are so gone on her,” his partner said, shaking his head. 

“Do you really wanna start this, Boyd? Because we don’t even compare to you and Erica,” the inspector threatened good-naturedly.

“That’s different; Erica and I are married. You’re dating your high school sweetheart. Were you this bad as a teenager?” Boyd asked.

“Worse,” Jordan confirmed with a chuckle. He shook his head and returned to his current case. He’d been working with Boyd for less than a year, but the bond between most police partners grew fast and strong. While he tended to be the strong and silent type around most, Boyd had a pretty sharp wit and was loyal to those he cared about. After Jordan had been officially approved of by his wife Erica, the two partners became pretty good friends. Which included some razzing about Lydia, whom Boyd had yet to meet.

Things had been a bit strained with Lydia following Stiles’ supposed mugging, but after a couple of weeks of peace, Jordan had let the issue go. For now. He still had the sense that he was missing something, but things had been normal lately, so he wasn’t going to ruin his burgeoning relationship over it. Besides, Jordan had a hot Thursday date night planned. Things were looking up for them.

X

“Then his date literally threw her drink in his face. I didn’t think that happened in real life,” Allison finished as Scott bent over laughing. 

“Quit distracting me,” he finally said, getting control of his breathing back. “Lydia might actually kill me if I don’t at least start the staining today.”

“Well, she’ll for sure kill all of us if we’re still here tonight. She’s got a date and we’ve been ordered out of the Manor for the night,” Allison said, before biting her lip and just deciding to go for it. “You wanna go watch a movie or something?”

Scott shot her a small, shy smile. “Sure, sounds fun. Just let me finish up here and we can get out of your sister’s hair.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Allison replied, fighting back a grin. She stepped out of the living room to let Scott get back to work. It had been a good day. She had the day off after a horribly stressful month of trying to deal with the mess the assistant manager had left behind. Stiles had been gone most of the day on some mysterious errand he was staying tight-lipped about, so that had left her alone with Scott. Which was certainly not a bad place to be. 

Allison didn’t believe in love at first sight, but when he had offered her that pen, she had felt _something_. Maybe at first she was just attracted to him, but after getting to know him a bit over the course of the week, the witch had to admit she was interested. And he certainly got brownie points for helping her little brother through a panic attack. Allison had always been a sucker for nice guys, which her siblings teased her mercilessly about. 

Stiles opened the front door and entered a foyer, “Hey, Ally.”

“I didn’t think you would come back til later tonight. Lydia booked the house for her date, remember?” Allison responded, raising an eyebrow.

“Shit, that was tonight? I thought that was tomorrow,” Stiles asked, wincing. 

“No, that was definitely tonight. Didn’t you get her reminder text? With the all-caps?” the older witch replied wryly.

“Yeah, I just forgot to read it. I was busy,” the brunet answered, looking at his phone. “Shit, fine, I guess I’ll just go grab dinner or something.”

“We’re going to see a movie, if you want to come,” Scott piped up from the living room.

“Oh, you are?” Stiles smirked devilishly at his sister. She responded with narrowed eyes. “It’s fine, Scott. I’m not really feeling a movie tonight, but thanks for the invite.” He leaned closer to his sister, “You’re welcome.” 

Allison rolled her eyes, but was secretly grateful. Stiles could live up to the annoying little brother stereotype when he wanted to; he certainly wasn’t above crashing dates. Especially since he and Scott had developed quite the bromance lately. 

“Why is everyone still here? Did you not get my text?” came the somewhat shrill voice of her older sister as she and Jordan walked through the front door.

“Relax, Lyds, we’re leaving. Just please don’t have sex in one of the communal areas,” Stiles responded with a grimace. Jordan blushed and looked away.

“Stiles,” Lydia growled out, the hand not holding The Notebook clenching. 

“Okay, and we are leaving!” Allison called out, hoping to head off another Stilinski fight. She had grabbed Scott and Stiles with each hand and was pulling them toward the door when the doorbell suddenly rang. 

She sighed in frustration, but dutifully opened the door. On the other side was a boy. Well, a teenager she supposed. Probably a high school student. He was a little short but lean, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. “Hello?”

“Uh, hi, are you one of the Stilinskis?” the boy asked, looking uncertain.

Allison hesitated, but a hunter wouldn’t need to ask that, right? And he was just a kid. “Yeah, I’m Allison. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about your coven,” the boy replied nervously. Allison’s eyes widened and she turned to Scott, whose brow had furrowed.

“Uh, Scott, I forgot my jacket. It’s in the sunroom, can you go grab it?” she asked hurriedly. The handyman looked confused, but nodded and went to retrieve the jacket.

“Okay, porch. Let’s take this to the porch,” Stiles said, ushering her out. Behind them, Allison heard Lydia send Jordan to the kitchen for popcorn before scurrying outside to join them.

“Who are you? What do you want?” the redhead asked fiercely. Allison privately thought she could take it down a notch when talking to a kid.

“My name’s Liam. I’m like you; I’m a witch,” the boy explained. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lydia said coldly. “Witches aren’t real.”

“I know you’re witches. I’m not a bad guy or anything,” Liam responded earnestly. “I just…I don’t know anyone else like me. And I’m having a hard time controlling my power. I need help.”

Allison felt a pang of sympathy for him, but, “Why would you think that we’re witches?”

“I just know, okay? I need a coven. Please. I don’t have anyone else to ask,” Liam pleaded. 

“You need to leave,” Lydia said, stone-faced. Allison’s stomach churned; it didn’t feel right to just send this kid away, but they didn’t know him. They didn’t know who he was or how he had found them, and it wasn’t like he had given them any real answers. What if he was just a kid that had gotten into the occult? They couldn’t risk exposing themselves.

“Wait, please, you have to help me. I’m one of you!” the boy demanded, his nerves giving way to visible anger. 

“Is everything okay?” Jordan called from the foyer, both him and Scott having returned from their errands. 

“Yeah, everyone’s about to leave, don’t worry,” Lydia responded, eyes not leaving Liam. 

“Lydia,” Stiles began, hesitantly.

“It’s not fair; witches are supposed to help people!” the teenager exclaimed. A sudden popping sound from behind them cause the Stilinskis to turn in near unison to the foyer. The popcorn bag in Jordan’s hand was rapidly growing. Allison let out a gasp and froze the room.

“That’s your power?” Liam asked, sounding amazed. “That’s so cool!”

“He didn’t freeze,” Stiles noted. “Why didn’t he freeze?”

“I told you I’m a witch,” the teenager reminded them. “Now will you please let me in?”

“No, get the hell out before I throw you out,” Lydia ground out, eyes flashing in anger.

“Lydia!” Stiles scolded. Liam’s eyes narrowed at Lydia and the DVD in her hand started smoking. She let out a gasp and dropped it, glaring at Liam. The teenager spun on his heel and ran off.

“What the hell was that?” Allison wondered aloud. The sound of the bag of popcorn ripping open signaled the end of the freeze. The siblings turned to see burned popcorn littering the floor.

“Wow, defective bag,” Stiles said. Everyone turned to stare incredulously at him.

X

“What did you tell Jordan?” Allison asked her sister as the three Stilinskis re-grouped in the sunroom.

“That he was asking about our oven. Some teenage practical joke. He didn’t hear any of the witch stuff, thank goodness,” Lydia replied wearily. Stiles snorted. “What did you tell Scott?”

“That he thought he was a witch,” Allison answered with a shrug. At the redhead’s withering look, she added, “What? It worked! Teenagers are always getting into weird stuff. I just said he was a neighbor’s kid that wanted people to join his coven.”

“Okay, but can we talk about the fact that we just met another witch?” Stiles pointed out. He shot a judgmental look at Lydia. “And you were totally rude to him.”

“Rude? Stiles, he almost exposed magic to two people! We don’t know him; he could be dangerous,” Lydia retorted angrily.

“He said he couldn’t control his power. He’s just a kid, Lydia,” the younger witch argued. He couldn’t imagine finding out he was a witch as a teenager. He was enough of a mess back then without the magic. Hell, he was barely handling this witch thing now.

“He’s a kid with some serious firepower. One tantrum and he could seriously hurt someone,” Lydia shot back. “And we don’t even know how he found out about us. It would be insane to trust him.”

“I’m not saying we should trust him,” Stiles responded, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying that he needs our help.”

“And _I’m_ saying that we should stay away from him. We don’t need that kind of danger in our lives. What if he gets on the hunters’ radar? We don’t need their attention anywhere near us,” Lydia said firmly. 

Stiles shuddered and looked away. If hunters came after Liam and saw him hanging around the Stilinskis…could they really take that chance? As soon as he thought it, shame rose within him. If hunters _did_ come after that boy, then was Stiles really the kind of person that would stand to the side and let them kill him? Is that what Gerard made him?

“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “No, Lydia, are you even listening to yourself right now? He’s a _kid_. We can’t let them hurt him.”

“I can’t let them hurt _you_ ,” Lydia corrected, before looking at Allison. “Either of you.”

“They already hurt me, Lyds,” Stiles responded softly. “And that means I’m fucking terrified of them. But it also means that I can’t let them hurt Liam. Or worse.”

“We’re supposed to protect the innocent, right?” Allison added. 

“We don’t know if he’s an innocent. He could be anyone,” Lydia argued.

She wasn’t wrong. But for the first time in weeks, Stiles felt passionate about something. Ever since he had been attacked, the strongest emotions he had felt were fear and anger. For once, his anxiety was taking a backseat to the sudden compassion compelling him to help this strange teenager. He needed to hold on to that; he needed to feel something good again. 

“Maybe,” Allison agreed. “But we should check him out, find out who he is. If he really is just a witch, then we need to help him.”

Lydia pursed her lips. “Fine, but neither of you try to find him on your own. He could be a threat.”

Allison nodded in agreement and the two older Stilinskis turned to eye Stiles. “Fine,” he sighed. He wouldn’t try to find him.

Luckily, he got a call the next afternoon from the elusive teen, so he wasn’t technically breaking his promise. With Lydia and Allison both working and Scott off for the day, Stiles was easily able to slip out of the house and walk to the nearby high school. 

“Okay, so first off, how did you get my number?” Stiles asked, arms crossed, as Liam walked off the lacrosse field and headed toward him.

“You have zero privacy settings on Facebook,” the teen casually explained, leading them toward his car. Shit, okay, he should probably change that. Why was his number on Facebook anyway?

“Well, second then, how did you find me and my sisters?” The brunet stood next to the teenager’s car, but made no move to get in. 

“Come on, do we really have to do this here?” Liam whined. Stiles stood his ground. “Okay, I’ve got a friend…she knows about magic and stuff. She’s the one who explained what I was, what I could do. And she told me about you guys.”

“You said you needed help, that you didn’t have anyone else,” the older witch reminded him. Why did he come to them for a coven if he already had this friend? Was she a witch like them?

Liam sighed, shuffling uncomfortably in place. “She’s kinda like a mentor, but what she can do is…limited. Look, it’s complicated. Can we talk at your place?”

Stiles hesitated; bringing a strange witch home when no one else was there could be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Sure, he was fine being home alone with Scott, but Scott was as normal as they came. No magic, no tendency to hunt and kill witches. But Liam…he had an active power and all Stiles had were sore ribs and premonitions. Well, that was an idea. “Just hold still for a second.” He reached out and grasped Liam’s shoulder. The teenager raised an eyebrow but made no comment at the sudden touching. Nothing. No premonition warning him of his impending demise. “Okay, fine, we can go back to my house. But you probably shouldn’t be there when Lydia gets home in a couple of hours.”

“Fine by me,” the teen said with a careless shrug. Stiles climbed into the car and tried to slow his rapidly rising heart-rate. He just had to focus on the fact that Liam was a scared kid that needed him. He was a Charmed One; helping people was in the job description. He could do this.

All too soon, the car was parked in front of the Manor and the two witches were seated in the sunroom. 

“You want anything to drink?” Stiles offered, his Grams-given hosting skills kicking in reflexively. 

“No, thanks. I’m good,” Liam replied.

“Okay, then, tell me a little more about yourself. A last name would be nice. How old are you? Also, do your parents know you’re here? Or that you’re a witch?” Stiles decided not to beat around the bush, considering the time limit.

Liam flinched and looked at his hands. “My last name’s Dunbar. I’m sixteen. My parents are dead. And I have no idea if they knew about me.”

Shit. “I’m sorry,” Stiles said gently, despite knowing from experience that phrase meant nothing when it came to loss. He couldn’t help but empathize with the kid. His dad might be alive, but knowing he was trapped in some barbaric deal was almost worse than him dying. And his mom…well he missed her as best he could, considering he never really knew her. “Do you have any family? Who are you living with?”

“My stepdad. My birth dad died when I was a kid. My mom re-married a few years ago, but now she’s gone, too. I mean, I love him and everything, but he’s definitely not a witch. He’s a doctor; this stuff would just freak him out,” Liam said somewhat bitterly.

“When did you get your powers?” Stiles asked.

“A couple months ago. Just after Mom…” he cut himself off, shaking his head. “Anyway, I can make them work when I try, but my problem is sometimes things just start catching fire when I’m angry or upset.”

“Well, our powers are tied to our emotions,” Stiles mused aloud. “It makes sense that they’d react so strongly to yours if you just got them. What exactly can you do?”

“It’s not just fire,” Liam began. “It’s heat. It’s like I can emit heat. But that heat can turn into fire pretty fast.”

“Can you show it to me? The heat, not the fire,” Stiles requested, trying to hide his unease. The anxiety had been bubbling under the surface since they had arrived at the Manor, but the brunet was determined not to let it control him. Even if Liam was a threat, Stiles could handle it; he would have to.

“Uh, sure.” Liam looked around the room for a moment, before picking up a nearby candle. He touched its waxy surface and closed his eyes. Almost instantaneously, the candle melted, leaving a pool of liquid wax in its wake.

“Wow, you’ll never need a microwave again,” Stiles commented. 

Liam shot him an exasperated look. “If I can ever control it! This is why I need a coven. I need help.”

“Which brings us back to that friend of yours,” Stiles said. 

“Look, Callie can’t help me like you can. I mean, she’s tried, but she’s like this high priestess that guides people. She can give me all sorts of advice, but she doesn’t have a coven for me to join. That’s why she told me about you guys,” the teen insisted.

“Liam, we’re not a coven in the traditional sense, okay? Not the way you think. We’re just siblings that happen to be witches,” Stiles tried to explain. He wanted to help the kid, but he was still pretty new at magic himself. He hadn’t even touched the stuff since before Gerard. Hell, it seemed like Liam had gotten his powers around the same time as his family.

“But you still have help. You have each other. I don’t have anyone. Not really. Callie can only do so much,” Liam pleaded. 

“Look, I—” 

“What the _hell_ is going on here?” Lydia interrupted, entering the room. She must have come in through the side entrance of the house because Stiles hadn’t heard her coming. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he asked, shooting up from the couch.

“I got off early. I’ve got that re-do date with Jordan tonight, remember?” the redhead responded frostily. “And I thought we talked about this.”

“Look, Lydia, I think you two got off on the wrong foot last night. This is Liam Dunbar. He’s sixteen and goes to Baker High. His mom passed away a couple of months ago and he came into his powers. He’s just looking for a little help,” Stiles said calmly.

Lydia smiled tightly, “Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” She grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room, not really leaving room for denial. She released him once they reached the kitchen. “Did you completely forget when we talked about last night?”

“No! I didn’t go looking for him; he found me. Kinda,” Stiles argued, ignoring Lydia’s unimpressed glare. “Hey, I invited a stranger home without having a panic attack; you should be proud of me.”

“Proud? Stiles, I told you he was dangerous! There’s a difference between facing your fears and being reckless,” the older witch retorted angrily. 

“I wasn’t being reckless. He’s a kid that just lost his mom and found out he has powers that he can’t control; how does that not resonate with you?” Stiles demanded. It was too close to their own story for him to ignore.

“Do you really think I don’t get that? Or that I’m too heartless to care?” the redhead shot back. “Because I’m not blind or evil. But these things are never as simple as they seem, and I don’t think we should get too close to this kid until we know more about him. And not just what he tells us. I’ll ask Jordan to check him out. And _then_ we can talk about helping him.”

“I’m not a liar,” came the angry voice of their teenage guest. Stiles whirled around and found Liam standing in the doorway, glaring at Lydia.

“I didn’t say that,” Lydia began.

“No, you basically just did. And I’m not a fucking liar!” At this, the potted plant just behind Lydia burst into flames. Lydia gasped and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the corner of the kitchen, spraying the flaming plant. As she did this, Liam turned and ran out of the house.

“Liam, wait!” the brunet called out, chasing after the teenager. But Liam was in much better shape than he was and managed to get out of the house and into his car before Stiles could catch up. The witch walked back into the kitchen wearily. “He’s gone.”

“Good. The house can’t survive a moody firestarter,” Lydia said, putting the fire extinguisher away and trying to clear out the smoke.

“He’s not a firestarter,” Stiles commented with a sigh. 

“Well, whatever he is, with that temperament, he’s a serious threat,” Lydia decided. 

“Being dangerous doesn’t mean he’s not an innocent. We’re supposed to help him,” Stiles argued. Gerard must have done more damage than he thought if Lydia was still convinced that they should stay away from this kid.

X

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jordan asked cautiously.

“Talk about what? The movie?” Lydia gestured at the sunroom TV where her Netflix account was streaming The Notebook for the couple.

“No, about whatever’s been on your mind all night,” Jordan countered. Last night had been…weird. First, that boy showed up talking about either covens or ovens. Both options were too strange for Jordan to decide which was more likely. Then, the bag of popcorn he was holding had grown hot in his hand and just started popping, before finally exploding. After that, Lydia had hastily kicked him out, but he had seen the burned DVD she had tried to hide. None of it made sense. Was there some kind of strange electrical field affecting things in the Manor? Jordan was no scientist, so he didn’t know if that even made sense.

Tonight was supposed to be their do-over date and he had thought it would turn out well considering only Lydia was home when he arrived. However, she had spent the entire movie distracted. Jordan didn’t have to be a cop to see that something was bothering her.

The redhead sighed. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Jordan frowned and paused the movie. “You don’t have to tell me everything, Lydia, but I’d really appreciate it if you stopped lying to me.”

“Fine, I’ll rephrase that, then. There’s nothing I want to talk about,” Lydia responded.

“So we’re going to just sit here and pretend to watch a movie when we both know something’s bothering you?” the inspector asked incredulously. 

“Look, Jordan, I just can’t talk about it, okay?” Lydia bit out impatiently, crossing her arms.

“You can’t talk about a lot of things,” he noted. Silence stretched between them and Lydia refused to meet his eyes. “I should go.”

“Jordan, don’t,” the redhead said, looking at him wearily. And he was tempted to stay. Really. Lydia Stilinski could make him do almost anything just by looking at him like that. But the mood for the night had already shattered, and Jordan was frustrated with all the secrets. It felt like he only got to see part of Lydia’s life and just asking about the rest was enough to cause tension.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Lydia,” the cop confessed. “I thought I could be the kind of guy that lets you have your secrets. That doesn’t push. But it’s too much. And I’m just not that guy.” He sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to start a fight about this. I just…don’t know what to do anymore.” Jordan took in her carefully blank face and smiled sadly, before rising and making his way out of the room.

“Did we just break up?” Lydia called out, not moving from her spot on the couch.

“I don’t know,” he replied, turning around to face her. Jordan didn’t want things to be over, but he didn’t know if he could continue the way things were going. Lydia watched him silently. He sighed and turned to leave again. Hopefully, not for the last time.

X

“I did what you told me to do. They don’t want me. Well, Lydia doesn’t, anyway,” Liam said, sitting cross-legged in front of a full-length mirror, surrounded by candles. Inside the mirror was a kind-looking blonde woman. Callie had come into his life a few weeks ago, when he thought he was going to have to run away to keep his stepfather safe from his unruly power. She had just appeared one day in his mirror, wanting to help. Naturally, he had flipped out and avoided anything that could show a reflection for days. 

But after nearly setting the kitchen on fire, he had to accept whatever help he could. And Callie had turned out to be pretty cool, if a bit old-fashioned in her thinking. She had taught him how to summon her whenever he needed to speak with her and had given him some advice about his magic. Callie had also explained that she was a high priestess that guided new witches, and that he needed to find a coven to help him control his power. She told him about the Stilinskis and promised they would help him, but that didn’t turn out so well. Lydia hated him, he noted glumly, and he didn’t even understand why.

“Lydia’s the oldest and the most suspicious. She’s protective of her siblings,” Callie mused. “If you can get her trust, then you’re in. If not…we’ll have to turn to some alternate methods.”

Liam frowned at the ominous phrasing. “What does that even mean?”

“Don’t worry about it until it becomes an issue,” the woman advised. “Focus on what you’re going to do next.”

“That’s the problem: I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to annoy them! I just need to figure this power out before my dad finds out. Maybe I should just tell him; maybe he can help,” the teen offered uncertainly.

“Stepfather,” Callie corrected. “He’s not like you. Not a witch. And he definitely wouldn’t accept your magic. Mortals never do. Your best chance lies with the Stilinskis; remember that.”

“But there are other witches in San Francisco, right? Why can’t I ask _them_ for help?” Liam asked nervously. Callie didn’t really like it when he questioned her plans.

“Because their coven is the strongest. They’re the Charmed Ones. Power like that, you don’t turn away from. They’re the best-suited to help you. You trust me, don’t you, Liam?”

Liam picked at his shirt sleeve, thinking it over. He hadn’t known Callie long, but she was the only one he could really talk to about his magic. The only one that understood. “Yeah, I trust you.”

“Good, then—”

The high priestess was interrupted by knocking on the closed bedroom door.

“Liam? Who are you talking to?” his dad’s voice drifted in from the other side.

“No one! Just watching a movie!” the teen called out hurriedly.

“I know that’s not a movie,” the other man retorted, opening the door. Callie quickly faded away to avoid being seen. “Why do you have all these candles lit? What are you doing?”

Liam jumped up, fists clenching in anger. “You can’t just come into my room without asking!” 

“I can when there’s a fire hazard here. What the hell is going on with you, Liam?” his dad argued.

“Nothing’s going on except you completely violating my privacy!” Liam shouted, the familiar feeling of rage settling in him. 

“Maybe you don’t deserve privacy! Did you think your teachers wouldn’t tell me about the classes you’ve been skipping? Or the missing homework? There’s only so much slack we can all cut you!” his dad responded, voice slightly raised. 

Liam shook with anger. “Get out of my room!”

“Not until we sit down and talk about things calmly. Have you been taking your medicine?” the other man asked.

“I said GET OUT!” Liam yelled, chest heaving. The flame from one of the candles bloomed suddenly and reached out, setting his dad’s pant leg on fire. Liam’s rage suddenly cooled with the horrible realization of what he had done. 

His dad leapt back, batting at the flame furiously. In his panic, he retreated too far, not realizing he was at the top of the staircase until he took another step backward and tumbled down the stairs. Liam rushed down the stairs to help, but his dad had already reached the bottom and was knocked out at best, seriously injured at worst.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, hands fluttering uselessly over his chest. “I’m sorry, Dad, I’m so sorry.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to dial 911 and prayed for a miracle.

X

“Liam? Hey, are you alright?” Stiles asked once he located the teen in the hospital waiting room.

“They won’t let me see him until tomorrow,” Liam mumbled, rubbing his eyes and hoping they didn’t still look red.

“How’s he doing?” Stiles questioned sympathetically. This kid has not had an easy life. Both his birth parents had died and now his stepdad almost followed suit.

“He’s fine. Sleeping. He’s got a few broken bones, but his spine and neck are okay, which were the real worry. They’ll release him in a couple of days,” the teen said, looking surprisingly upset for someone whose dad was going to be okay.

“Well, that’s good news then,” Stiles said. “It’s getting late; are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, thanks for letting me stay with you. I know that we just met, but…” the teenager trailed off, looking uncertain. “Is Lydia okay with it?”

“Hey, it’s no problem, kid. I’m glad you called me instead of trying to stay on your own. And I filled Lydia in on everything. She comes off as kinda harsh, I know, but she’s not a bad person. She’s fine with you staying with us,” Stiles reassured him. She certainly hadn’t been happy about it, but Allison sided with him on this one. Stiles had been surprised when the teen had called him in tears about his stepdad’s accident, but if Liam really didn’t have anyone else to call on, then Stiles _had_ to help. 

Stiles drove the teenager back to the Manor in Allison’s car and tried to make conversation, but it was clear Liam wasn’t in the mood to talk. Not that he could blame him. 

“You hungry?” Stiles asked when they reached the Manor.

Liam shook his head. “I just wanna go to sleep if that’s alright.”

“Yeah. We can stop by your place tomorrow to pick up some of your stuff, but for now you can just borrow from me. I’ll show you the guest room,” Stiles said, leading the kid into the home. Lydia came out from the kitchen with her arms crossed, but Stiles shot a glare her way to keep her from interrogating the kid. That was the last thing he needed right now. He led Liam up the stairs, stopping in his room to grab some pajamas, before going to the guest room.

“The bathroom’s down the hall, first door on your right. There’s a new toothbrush under the sink and I can get you a towel if you want to shower.” Liam shook his head. “Okay, then, is there anything you need?”

“No. Thanks for this, though,” he said softly.

“Hey, it’s no problem. I hope your stepdad gets better soon,” Stiles responded. Liam nodded and looked away uncomfortably. Stiles clasped his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way before heading downstairs.

Lydia and Allison were waiting for him in the foyer. “How’s he doing?” Allison asked, looking concerned.

“Okay. His stepdad’s gonna be fine, but he seems pretty spooked about what happened,” Stiles answered. It must have been terrifying to see the only family he has left take a fall like that.

“I agreed to let him stay with us. But that means that tomorrow he’s got to answer some questions,” Lydia said firmly. 

Stiles sighed. “Fine, yes, tomorrow you can ask him whatever you want. Just give him some space tonight, okay? He just wants to sleep.” 

The redhead rolled her eyes. “I know you think I’m an insensitive shrew, but I have a heart, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Stiles said, draping an arm over his sister’s shoulders companionably. 

X

“Liam,” crooned a familiar voice in the dark room. Liam, who’d been fitfully dozing at best, shot up. 

“Callie?” he called out hoarsely. Suddenly, her image flickered into being in the vanity mirror. Liam felt uneasy; after what had happened to his dad…he almost didn’t want to see her.

“Look at you, staying with the Stilinskis. You’re doing well, Liam,” the high priestess said approvingly. “But has Lydia accepted you yet?”

“I don’t know,” the teen stammered out. “I haven’t spoken to her tonight.”

Callie sighed, looking irritated. “You wasted an opportunity to get on her good side?”

“She let me stay with them. Isn’t that enough?” Liam asked. He didn’t want to think about covens or magic right now. 

“No, Liam, if she doesn’t trust you, then you can never join their coven. Never access their power,” Callie retorted, looking frustrated.

“Access their power? I thought they would help me control mine.” He definitely didn’t want more power, not after what he had done to his dad. 

“Yes, yes, they will. But covens share their magic. And the Stilinskis have a lot to share,” the woman hastily added. The uncertainty must have shown on Liam’s face because Callie quickly said, “But enough about that, how’s your stepfather?”

“He’s going to be okay. But he saw what I did. What if he hates me? What if he tells the police?” the teen said, starting to panic. He hadn’t even thought about that. Was he going to be arrested? Didn’t he deserve it, anyway? 

“That won’t matter if you’re protected by the Stilinskis. You won’t even need your stepfather then,” Callie said reassuringly and Liam’s gut twisted. He loved his stepdad. He was the dad Liam had grown up with. The one that taught him how to play lacrosse and talk to girls. He couldn’t lose him over this. “Now, we need to talk about what you’re going to do. How far are you willing to go to gain control over your magic?”

“What?” Dread began to build in Liam; that didn’t sound good.

“It may come to…removing Lydia from the picture. With her gone, Stiles and Allison are sure to embrace you as a fellow witch. She’s your only obstacle. And you’re running out of time; your power only grows more dangerous,” Callie continued.

“You want me to _kill_ her?” Liam asked incredulously.

“It may be necessary, Liam. There are sacrifices we have to make for our magic,” Callie answered calmly. Liam shuddered; this wasn’t right, _she_ wasn’t right.

“What if I started taking my medicine again? Stiles said our powers are tied to our emotions. If I get back on the meds, they can help,” Liam protested.

“Oh Liam, we both know that medication just slows you down. It keeps you from realizing your full potential. You don’t need them. You just need a coven. This coven. And Lydia is stopping you,” Callie insisted. “You can do this, Liam. You know you can. I’ll let you think about it.” With that, the high priestess disappeared from view, and Liam lay back in bed, tremors racking his body.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t kill someone. He had to go. Now. Before he hurt someone again. Liam climbed out of bed and quickly changed back into his clothes before slipping out of the house, hoping no one would follow him.

X

“Liam’s gone,” Stiles announced, entering the kitchen Sunday morning. 

“What?” Allison asked, looking alarmed. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like he left a note or anything. I sent him a text, but if he took off before everyone woke up, I doubt he’ll respond,” Stiles answered, sitting at the table. He sighed and rubbed his temples. Lydia felt a pang of sympathy for her brother. He seemed to genuinely care about this kid. Not that she didn’t care, but she wasn’t nearly as invested as Stiles had become.

“That’s it, I’m paying a visit to the stepdad. Something doesn’t feel right,” Lydia decided. Time to get some answers from _someone_ in that family. Allison and Stiles decided to stay home in case Liam came back, while Lydia went to the hospital for a little fact-finding. 

“Excuse me, can I have the room number for Richard Geyer?” Lydia asked the nurse at the front desk. 

“Are you family?” she asked, looking at her computer.

“No, but I’m watching his stepson while he’s in the hospital and he’s run away,” Lydia answered truthfully. The nurse raised an eyebrow, but gave her the room number.

A few minutes later, Lydia was knocking on a hospital door and being told to enter. 

“Hi?” the man in the hospital bed greeted her, raising an eyebrow.

“Hi, Dr. Geyer, my name’s Lydia Stilinski,” the redhead responded. “My brother Stiles volunteers at Baker High and met your stepson Liam there. He was supposed to stay with us while you were in the hospital, but he left sometime during the night and we can’t seem to reach him. Did he come here this morning?” 

“Wait, what? Liam’s never mentioned you,” the man said dubiously.

“I only met him a couple of days ago when he came by our house to talk to my brother. He’s been having a hard time since his mom passed away. I think he felt like he could confide in Stiles.” It wasn’t totally a lie. Liam _did_ seem to trust Stiles; she was just leaving out the supernatural bits.

Dr. Geyer looked reasonably convinced by this. “Liam’s…a troubled kid. I’m not surprised he left; he likes to go off on his own a lot,” the doctor admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I love him; he’s my son. But he has Intermittent Explosive Disorder and sometimes it can make him act…off.”

“IED?” Lydia raised an eyebrow; that was a pretty heavy diagnosis.

“He’s a good kid. And we put him in therapy at a young age and got him the medication he needs, and he’s been mostly fine since then. But when he stops taking the medication, he can have outbursts,” he continued. “After his mom died…he started having more outbursts. The grief just added to his IED. And I’ve suspected for some time that he might not be taking his medication anymore. He says it interferes with lacrosse, makes him tired.” The man shook his head and sighed. “I hate to put this on you. I don’t even know you. But if you can check my house to see if he’s there, I’d really appreciate it. I’m worried about him.”

“That would be no problem,” Lydia assured the man. It looked like Liam really was just a troubled teenager with the added stress of having powers, but it couldn’t hurt to check out his room for any signs of dark magic.

She programmed the address the man gave her into her GPS and made her way to his house. She lifted the flower pot on the front porch to retrieve the spare key beneath it, as Dr. Geyer had instructed. There was no sign of anyone being home. Lydia made her way upstairs, poking a head in each room until she found Liam’s. It looked like the average teenage boy’s room: there were posters of bands, an unmade bed, and an Xbox. And a circle of candles in front of a mirror…well, not so average, then.

She poked around Liam’s desk drawers, but it was mostly just full of school supplies and errant pieces of incomplete homework. She huffed and moved on to the closet. There was an antique chest stuffed in the back that she quickly opened and bingo, a journal. Lydia felt a little scummy opening it, but this was her best shot at figuring this kid out. The first page looked like it was written by a child and began with “My stupid therapist told me to keep a journal.” She frowned. This must be an old journal; it probably didn’t have anything relevant in it.

She flipped through it anyway, attention caught on a later page written in blue ink instead of with a pencil, like the rest of the journal. Lydia checked the date; it was only a couple months old. Skimming the journal entry, her heart sunk when she realized Liam began writing again when his mother died. Feeling like the worst kind of intruder, she flipped ahead a few pages. Sure enough, there were entries about his new power. About his inability to control it. About his fear and desperation. 

Lydia sighed. Stiles had been right; Liam had been an innocent in need and she had pushed him away at every opportunity. She continued to skim the journal for anything helpful, any clue to point to where he might have gone. Instead, she read about the woman who could appear in mirrors. The one that pushed him to find the Charmed Ones, assuring that they would help him. Lydia put the journal back in the chest and clenched her fists. Time to check out this Callie in the Book of Shadows because she just screamed “demon.” And if she was as evil as Lydia suspected she was, then she was going to get her ass kicked for even thinking of using a scared, grieving teenager like this.

X

“Were you really trying to sneak about before I woke up?” Mason asked incredulously, stopping Liam in his tracks. “I’m not a bad one night stand, Liam.”

Liam grimaced, looking guilty. “I know, I know. I just gotta go. Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Liam, you’re my best friend. Even if you haven’t been acting like it lately. You’re always welcome to stay the night,” Mason responded softly. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? I can help.”

“You really can’t,” Liam said, huffing out a bitter laugh, but sitting down on Mason’s bed nonetheless. He really was pushing it already. After leaving the Stilinski Manor, Liam had wandered without even thinking to Mason’s house. He’d barely spoken to his friend since he discovered his magic because he wanted to keep him safe, but the other boy had taken him in without a word, as if nothing had happened. He was more than Liam deserved.

“C’mon, Liam. You can tell me anything. Really,” his friend prodded, looking concerned.

“I want to,” Liam admitted. “But I can’t. It’s too much. It’s dangerous. I’m sorry, I have to go.” He got up, cursing at himself for coming here and putting his friend at risk. What if he had lost control again? He rushed out of the house, ignoring Mason’s protests.

He had to leave town, Liam decided. He had to get as far away from the people he cared about as possible. The teen caught a cab back to his house and entered his room to frantically pack a bag. He could take the bus, get out of the state, go up north. 

“What are you doing?” came a voice behind him. Liam whirled around in horror as Callie glared at him from the mirror.

“I’m leaving. I can’t hurt anyone else,” he said, trembling a bit and praying that she would just let it go, let him go.

“Liam, we’ve worked too hard for you to run away now. I want the Charmed Ones’ power,” the blonde insisted, looking less motherly and more menacing by the minute.

“No, I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me; you’re not even real!” the boy exclaimed, turning away from the mirror to continue packing.

“Alright,” Callie responded soothingly. “I’m sorry. I pushed you too hard. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Liam. I wanted to help you and I’m sorry that I didn’t. But don’t leave things like this.”

“What do you mean?” Liam asked, calming down now that Callie was acting normally again. 

“Come here, touch the mirror. It’s the closest we’ll get to a hug goodbye,” she answered, looking sad. Liam was struck with sympathy. He’d never asked her why she lived in mirrors. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, trapped like that. Callie was…not who he thought she was, but she had been there for him when he needed it. He supposed the least he could do is give her some kind human contact. 

Callie smiled softly and put a hand up. Liam stepped forward awkwardly and gently placed his hand against her mirrored version, hoping she felt it. His body seized as he felt something _move_ , something cold and foreign entering his body and swirling inside. The image of Callie smirked menacingly at him and faded from the mirror. He blinked and his reflection showed glowing eyes. But it wasn’t really his reflection anymore.

X

“You’re right; she’s in the Book of Shadows,” Stiles announced as Lydia entered the attic. She had called him on the way home to check out Callie.

“Who is she?” the redhead asked.

“An evil sorceress cursed into her own dimension. She appears in reflections and has the power to possess innocents, and uses them as pawns to steal a witch's power,” Allison read aloud from the couch. “It looks like all we have to do to vanquish her is smash her mirror.”

“Oh, well, that’s not too hard, right? I mean, we’ll have to find Liam because he probably knows how to summon her, but—” Stiles was cut off by stomping on the stairs, followed by a menacing figure in the attic doorway. “Liam?”

“ _Not_ Liam,” Lydia corrected, backing away from the teen.

“Ooh, give the witch a prize,” the teen sneered, his eyes glowing a strange reddish orange. He lifted a hand and the siblings had to move quickly to avoid the flames. 

“Liam, come on, this isn’t you,” Stiles pleaded. “You didn’t want to hurt anyone, remember? You can fight this.”

“I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have, sweetie,” the possessed teen responded with a smirk. “I’ve got this kid locked down. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you too quickly; I’ve gotta get those powers out of you first. But this might sting a little.” He held out his hands and flames spurted directly at the witches. Allison was ready this time, though, and flung out her hands to freeze the fire. Liam dropped to the floor unconscious, leaving a strange apparition of a blonde woman frozen in the air.

“What the hell?” Stiles wondered aloud.

“Liam’s a good witch; he doesn’t freeze. But Callie does,” Lydia realized. “Which means I can do this.” She squinted her eyes and moved the frozen sorceress into the antique mirror in the corner of the attic. The mirror absorbed her body, leaving her trapped once more. The sorceress’ scream of frustration was cut off by Stiles grabbing the pedestal the Book normally sat upon and swinging it at the mirror, shattering it completely. 

“Wow,” the brunet stated, somewhat dumbstruck, before remembering Liam. He rushed over to the fallen teen, tapping him gently on the face. “Liam, hey, Liam, wake up.”

The boy slowly opened his eyes and blinked up at him, looking confused before shooting up. “Callie, where’s Callie?”

“She’s gone. You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” Allison answered gently, gesturing at the destroyed mirror.

Liam’s eyes widened. “Are you going to kill me, too?”

“What? No, Liam, nobody’s going to hurt you,” Stiles responded hurriedly.

“But I hurt my dad. I was so angry and I just lost control. I set his clothes on fire and he fell down the stairs and could’ve _died_ ,” Liam admitted, tears forming in his eyes. 

Lydia surprised Stiles by kneeling next to Liam and taking his hand. “That wasn’t your fault, Liam; you didn’t mean to hurt your dad. And you won’t again, okay? We’ll help you learn to control it. But you’re going to need to talk to your dad; he should know that you’re a witch.”

“No, he won’t understand; he’ll hate me,” Liam protested.

“No, he won’t. He loves you so much, but he’s worried about you. He just wants to help you and he can’t until he knows the truth,” Lydia responded gently. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you explain it. Everything’s going to be okay, Liam.” Liam looked doubtful, but didn’t protest. Lydia had that effect on people, Stiles thought with a smile.

X

“I’ve never even heard of IED,” Allison noted, taking a sip of orange juice a couple of days later.

“It’s not particularly common,” Lydia responded with a shrug. “But it’s treatable. Liam’s promised to take his medication again, so that will help with his power.”

Dr. Geyer had taken the news of Liam’s magic pretty well. It was better than the drugs he had thought Liam was on, anyway. “He’s coming over soon. We’re gonna go over some meditation thing I saw in the Book,” Stiles added, biting into a bagel. 

“Just keep your magic lessons in the attic so Scott doesn’t see anything,” Lydia reminded him. Stiles snorted at the idea of giving magic lessons; he was basically learning alongside Liam. He helped Liam with magic basics, while the teen practiced using his power with Allison and Lydia. It actually felt pretty good to be working with magic again. He was starting to feel more like his old self. 

Speaking of…“So I actually wanted to tell you guys something before you went to work. I was gonna keep it to myself until I knew it was all going to work out, but I kind of need some help with it,” Stiles said, shrugging sheepishly. 

“Is this about your little trips that you refuse to talk about?” Allison asked.

“Yeah, so I’ve been talking to my old advisor at UCSF and it looks like I might be able to finish my degree there,” Stiles answered nervously. 

“You’re going back to school? Why would you hide that? That’s amazing, Stiles!” Lydia exclaimed. 

“Well, I wasn’t sure if they’d let me back in,” Stiles responded. “I mean, I only need a semester to graduate, but I left abruptly and it’s been a few months, so…anyway, my advisor said that since my grades were so good, that if I write a compelling essay explaining what happened and got a couple of letters of recommendation from my old professors, then I might be able to start again in January. The deadline is coming up soon, though, and I was wondering if you guys would read my essay. Y’know, tell me what you think of it.”

“Of course, we will,” Allison assured him, grinning brightly. 

“Ugh, I’m so proud of you. My smart little brother,” Lydia cooed, pulling him close and kissing his cheek soundly. 

The blush didn’t leave his face until after both his sisters had departed for work. Stiles idly finished his coffee, thinking about school. He’d actually kind of missed it. It was the one thing in his life he hadn’t managed to screw up. Hardcore partying, getting into fights, sleeping with all the wrong guys—Stiles had spent a good portion of his life doing exactly what his Grams taught him not to. But he’d somehow always kept it together for school. High school was a breeze for him, allowing him to get into a pretty great college. School got a lot harder then, but it was one of the few things in his life that he actually cared about. He didn’t have Lydia’s genius or ambition, but between the AP classes in high school and courses in the summer she had pushed him to take, he had actually been pretty close to getting a psychology degree. And now he might actually make it.

The doorbell rung, interrupting his thoughts. Scott stood on the porch with Liam and an unfamiliar teenage boy. “Friends of yours?” the handyman asked.

“Wayward youths,” Stiles replied, letting them all in. Scott snorted and headed to the first floor bathroom to work on the leaky faucet. Stiles turned to the two teenagers in front of him.

“Uh, Stiles, this is my friend Mason. I kinda accidentally use my power in front of him,” the blond explained, trying for a winning smile.

“Yeah, he told me all about the magic lessons and the evil sorceress from the mirror. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone,” Mason hurried to add. “I just wanted to come see him learn magic.”

Stiles rubbed his temples and sighed. Well, it’s not like he could change what had already happened. “Okay, Liam, in the future, please refrain from showing your friends magic. Keeping it a secret is kind of a huge deal.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Liam said, shooting him wide, apologetic eyes. Lydia was gonna kill them all.

“Fine. C’mon, we’re doing meditation today,” Stiles said, grabbing Liam’s shoulder to lead him up the stairs. But the second he touched him, the witch was flung into a vision.

_An unfamiliar dark-haired man teleported into the Manor. Liam shot a flame at him, catching him in the shoulder. The man staggered back, burned, but otherwise okay. He smirked and shot a flame back at Liam, setting the boy on fire._

Stiles gasped and jerked away from the teen.

“Stiles? What happened?” Liam asked worriedly.

“A premonition. A very, very _bad_ premonition,” the brunet said faintly.

Mason’s eyes widened. “Intense,” he breathed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a couple notes: 
> 
> -Liam won't be a major character, just because it's hard enough doing an ensemble piece with three leads. He'll be in it occasionally and mentioned, but it's not like they're gonna draft a teenager into their battles anyway.  
> -I genuinely think Stiles is a school-smart character and I think TW canon backs it up, so I thought I'd put him a bit ahead in school for his age, despite his issues. Especially bc I don't want him to be in college forever in this fic.  
> -I regret the lack of Allison bits in this chapter, but it felt like Stiles and Lydia had more issues I needed to focus on. I'll work on giving her more, especially with Scott in the picture now.  
> -Yeah, it's kinda weird that Liam's dad would trust Lydia after talking with her for two minutes, but that's how Charmed did it and I just didn't have the energy to improve upon that.
> 
> Let me know what you think, guys. I love hearing from you.


	6. Blast From The Past

“Good morning, Lydia,” her boss greeted as he strode into her office.

“Hi, Mr. Harris,” she responded professionally.

“I thought I told you to call me Adrian,” he replied, going for charming but missing. She smiled politely in response. Adrian Harris was a nice guy and a pretty great boss, but she just felt uncomfortable around him for some reason. Maybe she had issues with bosses after the Jackson debacle. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop off this piece. It just got verified and is going to be in the next auction.” He handed her an antique locket with a winning smile. 

Lydia turned the locket over in her hands. “Hmm, it’s beautiful. Looks like it’s from colonial times.”

“Well, you’ve got that right. Let me know when you’ve finalized your report for the auction,” Harris instructed, closing her door on the way out.

The locket was silver. Probably American-made, Lydia noted to herself. The engraving was intricate; it must have been expensive. Her phone began to ring as she pried the locket open, sending a whirlwind rushing out of the small antique. Lydia gaped as the wind settled and a dark-haired man in seventeenth century garb stood in front of her. 

“At last, I am free,” the man announced, eagerly taking in his surroundings. He paused and frowned. “What is that strange noise?”

Lydia’s eyes widened as she stepped back from the man. “Who the hell are you?”

“I am Matthew. And you must be a Warren. Not Melinda’s daughter, though, she had dark hair,” the man noted, looking around the room again. “Not even a granddaughter. My, the world has changed.” He spotted the nameplate on her desk. “So the family name is Stilinski now. Interesting. What year is it?”

Lydia had had enough with this exchange, though. She squinted her eyes and threw Matthew against the wall before dashing for the door. One moment he was laying on the ground to her left and the next he appeared in front of her, smirking.

“You have her power, though,” he said, grabbing her tightly. “Now freeze me, witch!” Lydia squinted her eyes again, but it had no effect on the man. She struggled in his arms, but he was too strong. He grabbed her throat in one hand and began to squeeze. “I said freeze me! Save yourself.” She squinted and her desk chair rose and smashed into Matthew, stunning him into letting go of her. 

Lydia retreated, clutching her throat and trying to breathe normally again. Matthew rose, glaring at her for a moment before realization dawned on his face. “You cannot freeze me. But someone else may have inherited that power.”

Someone started banging on Lydia’s door. Harris’ voice called out from the other side, “Lydia, are you okay? What happened?” She narrowed her eyes and telekinetically pushed against the door, keeping it closed so that her boss wouldn’t get himself killed. 

Matthew smirked at her. “Don’t worry; I’ll return for you soon, pretty witch. But I want my powers back first.” He turned and squinted at the bank of windows on the right side of Lydia’s office. She flinched as he telekinetically shattered the windows. He had her power. How did he have her power? She watched as he simply walked right out of the window. So definitely not your average human then. The distraction caused Lydia to lose her grip on the door and it burst open, Harris practically falling into her office.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, looking wide-eyed at the destroyed window.

“There was an intruder,” she offered. “I have to go.” Ignoring her boss’ protests, she swept out of the office, intent on heading to Quake. If he was after a witch who could freeze, then she had to warn Allison. 

X

“So, what? He has your power now?” Allison hissed, looking around the restaurant to make sure no one was listening.

“Kind of? I mean, I still have my power, but it doesn’t work on him anymore and he also seems to have it,” Lydia responded in a low voice, looking like she wanted to drown herself in her iced tea.

“Which I could’ve warned you about if you had picked up your phone,” Stiles piped up irritably. 

“Well, sorry, I was being attacked by some colonial-era warlock when you called!” Lydia snapped. 

“Okay, you two, quit it,” Allison ordered. “We should go home and check this guy out in the Book.”

“But home is where my premonition took place,” Stiles pointed out. “I mean, I sent Liam back to his place because the Manor’s not safe for him. Or us, probably.”

“Do you know when your premonition took place? Because if he’s from the past, then it’s going to take him some time to figure out our world and how to find us,” Allison reasoned. Well, her at least. Lydia had said he was after a witch that can freeze time. Though, if he knew about their ancestor Melinda Warren, then it wouldn’t be long until he started hunting for the witch with her third power. Allison would be damned before she let this guy hurt Stiles. 

“No, well, I guess they were near a window and it was dark outside, so it must’ve been at night,” Stiles said thoughtfully.

“Okay, so it’s safe to go home now,” Lydia decided. 

“What about Liam? Shouldn’t we be protecting him or something?” Stiles asked, looking concerned for their fellow witch.

“No, I think he’ll be okay as long as he stays away from us while Matthew’s around. He wants our powers. I doubt he knows Liam even exists, and we definitely don’t need him getting that kind of firepower or Liam getting hurt,” Lydia replied. Her cell phone began to ring and Jordan’s name flashed on the screen as their table vibrated. 

“Are you gonna answer that?” Allison asked. She knew things had been awkward between them the last few days and it was stressing Lydia out.

“What are the chances he hasn’t heard about a man jumping out of a fifth floor window and walking away?” Lydia asked, pursing her lips.

Allison and Stiles shared an uneasy look. “Considering your boss probably called the cops…not good,” Stiles admitted. 

“Then I’m not answering,” she decided. The phone stopped ringing, though several text messages soon followed. The redhead winced and shoved her phone into her purse without looking at it. “Come on, let’s deal with this warlock.”

X

Allison held the locket the warlock had been released from and compared it to the illustration she found in the book. Right next to a smirking gentleman that must be their warlock. “Huh, he’s not unattractive,” Allison mused. 

“That’s what Melinda Warren thought,” Stiles responded wryly, reading the passage about the warlock. “This was written by her daughter Prudence years after she died. Melinda was hung at Salem for being a witch, but a friend of hers took in Prudence and raised her in a different town. Taught her magic and everything, apparently. She also told her about her mother’s lover, Matthew, the warlock that seduced her to copy her powers and turned her in for witchcraft…fuck this guy.”

Allison took over reading the passage on Matthew. “It says here that Melinda cursed him before he was executed so that he lost all the powers he stole and was trapped for all eternity in the locket he gave her. Looks like the only power he retained was his own: the power to teleport in the blink of an eye. And they called it blinking, how creative.” She rolled her eyes a bit at that. “Anyway, only a Warren witch can open the locket. It looks like Prudence wanted to pass it down the family to safeguard it, but something must have happened along the way.”

“And I let him out,” Lydia noted glumly.

“Not your fault. You couldn’t have known,” Stiles reminded his sister.

“I should’ve seen this passage in the Book. I should’ve been ready.” She shook her head ruefully but changed the subject. “So how do we put him back in the locket?” 

“I don’t know,” Allison admitted, checking the next page to see if the passage continued, but it was an entry on wendigoes. Lovely. “Maybe Prudence didn’t know how? I mean, she was working off second-hand information.”

“Great,” Lydia sighed, rubbing her temples. Her phone chimed with yet another text message.

“Maybe you should talk to him?” Stiles suggested hesitantly. 

“And say what? That a warlock jumped out my window and wants to kill us? I’d rather wait until we take care of this mess to come up with some new lie that he’s just going to see through anyway,” Lydia responded, looking frustrated. Allison laid the locket on the open Book and walked over to wrap her sister in a hug.

“Hey, you guys will figure it out. If you want to tell him, then tell him. It’s okay,” she reassured her sister. Jordan and Lydia may have only recently reconnected, but their feelings were still there in full force. And Lydia deserved to have a real chance at a relationship with Jordan. Even if that meant sharing the family secret.

X

Stiles watched his sisters from the behind the pedestal holding the Book. He was all for Jordan knowing about them; it would be nice to have another person to talk to that he didn’t have to lie to. But he got why Lydia hesitated; it was a pretty big risk. He idly picked up the locket to check it out, and his body shuddered as a series of visions ripped through him.

 _A beautiful blonde woman cried alone in an old jail cell._  
_The woman held up her hand to the barred window in the corner of the room and plucked a feather from the owl resting just outside on the sill._  
_A dark-haired woman smuggled a pouch through the bars of the window. The blonde took out the herbs and pressed them into the locket with the feather._  
_A man smirked maliciously at the blonde in her cell as tears streamed down her face. She suddenly smiled triumphantly and opened the locket, chanting a spell. The man was sucked in and the locket snapped shut. The woman held it to her chest and wiped away her tears, looking resigned._

Stiles gasped as he opened his eyes. Allison had grabbed his shoulder, while Lydia looked at him intently. “What did you see?” she demanded.

“The past, I think,” Stiles responded a little shakily. “I saw Melinda cursing Matthew into the locket. And I saw how she did it. Well, the ingredients at least. She said a spell, too, but my premonitions don’t get sound.”

“You can see the past now?” Allison asked, looking surprised. “Is your power advancing already?”

“I wish it would advance into me flying or something,” the brunet grumbled. 

“Okay, ingredients, write them down,” Lydia instructed, shoving a pad and pen into his hand. He scribbled down what he saw: yarrow root, angelica root, rosemary, thyme. “You recognized all that?” She shot him one of her rare impressed looks.

“Uh yeah? You made Allison teach us all about herbs like the day after we found out we were witches, remember?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t think you were paying attention,” she said with a shrug. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Rude. Anyway, there was also some kind of owl feather, but I don’t know birds at all. I guess I can look at pictures of different kinds online, but I don’t know how we’re gonna get a fucking owl feather.”

“Okay, so you do that and I’ll get the herbs from Chinatown,” Allison decided. The siblings paused as the doorbell rang. 

“Do warlocks ring doorbells?” Stiles asked.

“No,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes and leading the trio downstairs. She opened the door to reveal Jordan and a handsome stranger. Lydia’s eyes widened slightly, but she smiled charmingly at the men. “Jordan, hi.”

X

Matthew sighed as he looked at the dead body of the lawyer he had come to see. Though he bore the name Stilinski, he had no power for the warlock to copy. That was the second Stilinski he had tracked down, only to be disappointed. A shame. He wondered how much longer he would have to search for the witch that held the power he coveted. He could do this for years if he had to. Anything to spite the memory of that _witch_ that had cursed him. He would reclaim all three of Melinda’s powers and end the Warren line once and for all. He just had to find the witch that could freeze time. Hopefully, she would have premonitions, as well.

He prepared to blink out when a man appeared in the doorway. Matthew supposed he should kill this witness, as well. He raised a hand to telekinetically send the letter opener that had taken the lawyer’s life into the man’s throat, but the man immediately said, “Relax, Matthew, I’m here to help you.”

“Who are you?” Matthew asked suspiciously. “How do you know me?”

“I go by Harris around here,” the man answered with a slight smirk. “And you, my friend, are leaving a very obvious trail.”

“Friend?” the warlock sneered. “I do not know you.”

“No, but I know you. Who do you think placed your locket in the hands of a Warren witch to open?” Harris replied oily. 

“Why would you free me?” Matthew queried, already slightly sick of this man.

“Because I want what you want. To kill the Charmed Ones. You have the power to do it, but you’ll need my help to navigate this time or they will use it against you,” Harris responded. 

“The Charmed Ones?” the warlock echoed, the phrase unfamiliar to him.

“Three witches, siblings. They’re the culmination of Warren power; the strongest witches to be born, if the prophecy is right,” Harris explained. “But they’re new. Untrained. And you can become immune to their powers easily. You already have the eldest’s. The other two are even easier targets. And I can help you find them.”

Matthew considered the man before him. He supposed if this Harris reneged on his promise in any way, then he could easily kill him. He might as well use him to track down the witches sooner. Siblings, he mused. This would be fun.

X

“Uh, so Allison and I are just gonna head out now. Got some errands to run,” Stiles said, clutching his sister’s arm and attempting to go around the two cops standing in their foyer.

“No, you all need to hear this,” Jordan ordered, blocking his way. “When the officers came back to the station wondering how a man survived a five-story fall from _your_ office, I was worried. Thanks for picking up, by the way.” Lydia uncomfortably crossed her arms and looked away. “But hey, it wasn’t my case and obviously you didn’t think it was any of my business. But Boyd and I just finished up at the crime scene of a pretty brutal murder, and we got the call on the way over that another victim of potentially the same killer was found.”

“So you decided to drag your partner down here to yell at me instead of heading there?” Lydia asked, raising her chin slightly. She hated what she was doing to Jordan, what she had been doing to him since they started dating, but she was on a time limit here. Matthew was going to find them sometime soon.

“Both victims had the last name Stilinski,” Jordan informed the siblings coolly. Fuck. “Considering the intruder in your office and these two murders, we came to take you into protective custody.”

“No,” the redhead responded calmly, though her thoughts were running wild. How many more people would Matthew kill to find them? They had to get rid of him as soon as possible. And they couldn’t do that in protective custody. Not that the cops could even protect them.

“No? Lydia, did you just hear what I said? There’s someone out there killing people with your last name. You and your siblings could easily be next; Stilinski is not a common name,” Jordan shot back furiously. 

“Thanks for stopping by and letting us know about this, but we’re declining the protection,” Lydia replied, hating the way her voice sounded calm and almost clinical. 

“Either you’re coming with me or I’m staying here,” the inspector retorted angrily. Boyd put a hand on his arm in a calming gesture, while eying the siblings with interest. He must have thought they were crazy. Not exactly the impression she wanted to make the first time meeting Jordan’s partner.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Jordan. And if I catch you hanging around the house, I’ll launch a formal complaint with your captain,” Lydia said quietly, absolutely hating herself in that moment. 

Allison and Stiles shifted uneasily beside her as Jordan shot them all pleading looks. “Please don’t do this. I can help you.” The siblings remained quiet. 

“We don’t need your help, Jordan. We just need you to leave,” Lydia responded gently in an attempt to take the sting out of her words. It didn’t help much, according to the wounded look Jordan shot her.

“C’mon, man, we should go,” Boyd said, breaking into the argument. “There’s another crime scene to check out.”

“I’m not leaving. I don’t know what you guys are involved in, but I’m not letting you get killed over it,” Jordan stated, ignoring his partner.

“First off, you have no proof that we’re in danger,” Lydia argued. 

She was quickly interrupted by the irate inspector. “Really, Lydia? You want to ignore the obvious connection here?”

“You can’t develop a pattern from two data points,” she reminded him. “And _second_ , unless you want to arrest us, you have no right to be here without our consent. So please leave.” She crossed her arms and hoped that it took this time. At this point it didn’t seem like her relationship was salvageable, but if they could banish Matthew quickly, then they could at least prevent more deaths. 

Jordan opened his mouth to protest, but Boyd cut him off. “She’s right, Parrish. They’re not suspects. Let’s go.” Jordan shot her one last emotion-filled look before allowing his partner to drag him out of the house. She let out a shaky sigh as Allison closed the door behind him.

“Lydia,” Stiles began.

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Let’s just focus on getting rid of Matthew before he hurts anyone else.” 

X

Jordan shook as he and Boyd walked away from the Manor. “Go ahead without me,” he said gesturing at the car.

“Why? So you can get your ass suspended stalking your girlfriend’s place?” Boyd responded, raising an eyebrow. “We have a case to work, Parrish.”

“You know there’s a chance this killer might go after them. I can’t just leave,” Jordan protested. 

Boyd sighed and looked at him sympathetically. “Listen, Parrish. I get that you love her, really. But she doesn’t want you here. And we both know people well enough to know that she wasn’t lying when she threatened to call the captain. You can’t help her if she doesn’t want you to. But you can help me catch this guy before anyone else dies.”

The inspector grinded his teeth, looking up at the Manor. If he just knew what was going on, then he could help them, damn it. He didn’t understand what secret was so important that Lydia was risking her siblings’ lives by denying police protection. 

“Okay, since you look like you’re going to ignore my advice, how about a compromise?” Boyd offered, rolling his eyes. “You check out this crime scene with me and then come back to stalk your girlfriend.” Jordan eyed him doubtfully. “Hey, at least this way she won’t know you’re here. Unless you do something stupid, which is pretty likely, to be honest.”

Jordan mulled it over. He understood the inherent creepiness in watching someone against their will. Hell, he’d arrested people for doing just that. But he couldn’t live with Lydia or her siblings getting killed if there was something he could do to stop it. He sighed and headed for the car. It didn’t seem like his relationship was salvageable, but if he could keep Lydia safe, then that would have to be enough.

X  
“Found it!” Stiles cheered, looking up from his phone as Allison scribbled furiously onto a pad of paper. “It’s a spotted owl.”

“Great, now where would we find a spotted owl feather?” Allison asked, ignoring the strange look one of the Quake chefs shot their way. The siblings had just bought the herbs they needed in Chinatown when Allison’s manager called to demand she come in and deal with a particularly picky catering client. Lydia had returned to her office to deal with the questions from her boss, but stayed there to write a spell to return Matthew to the locket. Hopefully, he wouldn’t think to return there for her.

“Zoo, maybe? I’ll ask the resident genius,” Stiles responded, texting their older sister. The siblings exited the shop and began to walk to Allison’s car. “I’m kinda worried about her. That thing with Jordan was brutal.”

“God, I can’t even imagine what he must be thinking right now,” Allison agreed, sighing. “Or how she’s feeling. This whole thing’s become a mess.” She looked down at her notes from meeting with the client. “Okay, I’m gonna do a final run-through of this with the head chef. Can you grab the contract from Martin’s office in the back? It should be filed under Tyler. I want to check something.” 

Stiles saluted his sister and headed to the manager’s office. It was an absolute mess, of course. The brunet rolled his eyes and headed for the filing cabinet, looking for the T’s. He thumbed through the files, looking for the contract Allison wanted. A sudden noise in the hallway outside jolted him. His heart-rate picked up immediately. Stiles cursed Gerard again for making him this jumpy. He was about to turn back to the filing cabinet when Matthew strode into the room. 

The warlock smirked, “Not the witch I was looking for, but you will do fine for now.” Stiles recovered from his shock and threw out a punch that knocked Matthew back a few steps. The warlock squinted and the desk chair flew at the witch, knocking him down. Matthew leaned down and hauled Stiles up by his neck, shoving him against the wall. The witch and warlock gasped as they were simultaneously thrown into a vision.

_Lydia, Allison, and Stiles stood in the kitchen chanting a spell as Lydia held out the open locket. Matthew screamed as he was sucked back into his prison._

“No,” Matthew growled, looking furious. “That future won’t happen if you’re dead.” He telekinetically summoned a pair of scissors from the desk and prepared to jam them in Stiles’ throat, when he was suddenly whacked over the head with a metal pan. The warlock fell to the ground unconscious, while Stiles and Allison goggled at each other. 

Stiles’ phone chimed with a text. “Lydia’s going to get the feather from the museum she used to work at,” he read aloud, voice a little hoarse.

“Good, good. Are you okay?” Allison asked, looking concerned.

“He has my power now. He saw my premonition of us banishing him into the locket again,” Stiles responded, a little dazed.

“But are you okay?” she insisted.

Stiles thought about it. “Yeah. I mean, I’m kinda freaked because I almost just died again, but hey, maybe I’m getting used to it?” Allison looked at him like he was an idiot and pulled him into a hug. Okay, maybe he really needed that.

“Come on, we should go,” the older Stilinski said, eying the knocked out warlock.

“And just leave him here?” Stiles asked uncertainly. He didn’t want anyone else getting hurt.

“We’ll lock the door so no one else can come in. He’ll just blink out,” Allison added, shrugging. “I mean, he’s after us, not the rest of Quake.” Fair enough, Stiles thought as they hurried to execute her plan.

X

“Get in the car.” 

“Jordan—”

“Unless you want me to arrest you for breaking and entering, get in the car, Lydia,” the inspector retorted. The redhead frowned at him, and he couldn’t believe it had really come to this. She shivered slightly as the chilly October night air seeped through her light jacket. He sighed. “Come on, Lydia, at least the car has heating.” He waited until she hesitantly opened the passenger door and slid in to get in the car himself. 

After checking out the crime scene at the dead lawyer’s office, Jordan had dropped Boyd off at the precinct and searched for Lydia. Nobody was at the Manor when he got there, but he had luckily found her pretty easily at work. The auction house was too open of a space for him to risk entering and being seen, so he staked out the parking lot and prayed the killer wasn’t after her. From there, he had followed her car to her former place of employment, where he had seen her sneaking in and back out a few minutes later. At least now he had legal grounds to stop her. And hopefully help her.

“Following me?” Lydia asked frostily.

“Only because I think you’re in danger,” Jordan responded evenly.

“Apparently the only thing I’m in danger from is a stalker,” the redhead said bitingly. 

The inspector winced at that. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing, Lydia? Pushing me away isn’t going to make me stop caring about you. Tell me what’s going on. Is this about Jackson? Is he making you do this?”

“Jackson?” she echoed in surprise. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“Then why were you breaking into the museum?” Jordan interrogated, before spotting something white sticking out of her jacket pocket. “Wait, is that a feather? Did you steal a feather?”

“No, I already had that,” the redhead answered. Jordan stared at her. Refusing to file a report on her brother’s supposed mugging, denying police protection from a killer, and now breaking into a museum to steal a feather? Lydia Stilinski had always had the ability to confuse him, but she seemed to be taking it to a whole new level these days. He wondered how the years had changed her that much. 

“What are you involved in here? I know you might not trust me because I’m a cop, but if there’s something I can do to get you out of whatever this is, I’ll—”

Lydia snorted, “What? Do you think I’ve joined the Mob or something? There’s nothing illegal going on here, Jordan. I just wanted to see the museum again, okay?”

“So you broke in? Lydia, you’re too smart to think you’re getting away with something here,” the inspector countered. 

She looked him in the eyes, “Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” she repeated, a bit more forcefully. “And I’m not asking if you trust me to tell the truth. But do you trust me not to be doing something…bad?”

Jordan looked at her intently, searching her eyes for any hint of what he’s seen in the criminals he’s dealt with. “I think I do. I mean, I want to. But all this lying and sneaking around…it makes it hard to trust you, Lydia.”

She looked down and huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I get that.” The redhead looked back up at him, eyes turning somber. “But Jordan, I need you to trust that I’m not doing anything wrong here. The stuff that I’ve been hiding from you…it’s not bad in the way you’re thinking. I’m not involved in anything illegal. I’m actually trying to help people. And I can’t explain it any more than that right now. I just…I really need to get home, Jordan. Allison and Stiles need me right now.”

Jordan wanted to protest, to demand more information now that Lydia was finally saying something honest. But she had never looked so serious and he couldn’t bring himself to press further. Not if what she was saying was true. “Let me come with you. Let me help.”

She smiled shakily at him, “I love that you want to help me. Believe me, I appreciate it. But this isn’t something you can help us with.”

Jordan rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. He didn’t want to let her go. Not with a killer on the loose and who knows what going on at the Manor. But…if he really couldn’t help her, then he had to let her go. He wouldn’t be the one to hold her back from helping her siblings with whatever was going on. 

“Go,” he said wearily. “Just go. And be safe.”

“Thank you.” She laid a feather light kiss on his cheek and exited his car. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and hoped he hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

X

“Hey, I’ve got the feather,” Lydia announced, brandishing said item as she entered the kitchen. 

“I hope you’ve also got a spell because Matthew’s probably going to arrive soon,” Stiles responded grimly. “He stopped by Quake and got one of my premonitions. And if he can find us at Quake, then he’ll be able to find us here.”

“You guys okay?” she asked, automatically checking them both for injuries. 

“Not even a concussion this time,” Stiles quipped. 

“Spell?” Allison reminded her older sister, grabbing the feather and adding it to the herb mixture pressed into the open locket. 

“Yeah, I wrote it earlier. Well, I combined a couple different spells from the Book to write it, but that should work, right?” the redhead answered, pulling out a sticky note. 

Stiles gasped as someone grabbed him from behind at placed a gun to his temple. “Seriously? Again? Do I have a sign taped to my back saying ‘please shoot me’? And where the hell did you get a gun?” 

The warlock behind him chuckled as Allison and Lydia glared at the intruder. “It was a gift from a mutual friend. Our premonition didn’t include this, now did it? Freeze me, witch! Or I’ll kill your brother.”

“You’ll kill all of us as soon as you get my power, anyway,” the brunette stalled, eying her brother nervously. 

“Perhaps, but would you rather I kill him first?” the warlock responded, flicking the safety off. He rolled his eyes and moved to pull the trigger. Allison flung out her hands, freezing him. Stiles quickly removed himself from the warlock’s grasp and moved toward his sisters. Matthew began to move in slow motion as he fought the freeze.

“The spell,” Stiles gasped out, but Lydia was already on it.

“ _Outside of time, outside of gain. Know only sorrow, know only pain._ ”

The warlock screamed as he was sucked back into the locket, which snapped shut after him. Fortunately, the gun went with him.

“That was…kinda short,” Stiles commented, raising an eyebrow at his sister.

“Okay, well, it’s not like I had a long time to work on it. And I’ve never written a spell before. Shut up,” Lydia retorted, looking away. “Besides, it did the job, didn’t it?”

“Yes, Lydia, your spell worked. You are head witch in charge,” Allison teased, relieved beyond measure that the threat was gone and they had all made it out unscathed.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

“What’re we going to do with the locket?” Allison asked, turning it over in her hands. It amazed her that such an innocent object held a powerful murderer captive.

“Throw it into the fires of Mount Doom?” Stiles suggested, glaring at the thing.

Lydia snorted. “Maybe just an ordinary fireplace will do.”

“I’d like to know who our mutual friend was, though,” Allison said thoughtfully. “Another warlock?”

“We just dealt with Callie _and_ Matthew, don’t we get a break from baddies for a bit?” Stiles whined.

“You’re the one that wanted to be a witch,” Allison pointed out. 

“But I don’t even get to fly,” Stiles pouted.

X

Harris let out a roar as he punched the wall of his office. He rubbed his temples and sighed before waving a hand over the wall and watching it magically fix itself. That _idiot_ warlock was supposed to kill the Charmed Ones. Now he’d after to do the dirty work himself. At least he’d prepared a back-up plan for this.

X

“Is it that kind of night?” Allison asked, stopping in Lydia’s doorway. She quirked an eyebrow at her older sister, who sat on her bed with a bottle of wine on her right and a full glass in her hand.

“Well, my relationship is over. There might be another demon or warlock or gruesome monster after us. My boss probably wants to fire me at this point. Seemed like a good night for wine,” Lydia responded. Well, at least she wasn’t slurring yet.

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles snorted from behind the brunette, walking in and plopping down on the bed. “Gimme.” 

Allison couldn’t help but smile at Lydia primly keeping their brother from drinking straight from the bottle. “I’ll go get some glasses. And some more wine, I think.”

An hour later, the three siblings were sprawled out on Lydia’s bed, two empty bottles of wine on the ground.

“Don’t you two have work tomorrow?” the youngest Stilinski asked.

“Not til the afternoon,” Allison responded. Thank goodness.

“Harris gave me the day off because they’re installing a new window in my office,” Lydia said. She reached for one of the bottles and Allison snorted at her disappointed look.

“You should make breakfast,” Stiles suggested, poking Allison in the stomach. “And we can invite Scott. I like Scott.”

“I’m starting to think you like Scott more than I do.” 

“Nooooo,” Stiles slurred slightly. “He’s my buddy!”

“Mmhmm.” 

“So are you tapping that yet?” 

“Stiles!”

“What? I like him! You should marry him, so we can be brothers!” Stiles responded, smiling goofily at his sister.

“You’re ridiculous. We haven’t even gone on a date yet. The timing just hasn’t worked out,” Allison said unhappily.

“Let me give you some advice, little sister,” Lydia began imperiously. “Make time. Enjoy the good moments. You never know when a demon’s gonna attack and then you’ll have to keep lying and lying and he won’t trust you and he’ll think you’re in the Mob. And you won’t even be able to explain that you’re just trying to stay alive. Or that the reason you never want to spend the night at his place is because you’re afraid hunters are going to attack the house. Or that you don’t get to have a dad because you have an evil grandpa that’s always watching. Or—”

Allison may have knocked the breath out of Lydia by climbing on top of her and squeezing her into a tight hug. “You can tell him if you want, Lyds. You know we support you.”

“I caaaan’t,” the redhead whined, sounding muffled. “What if he hates me? Or just thinks I’m a freak? Or what if it just puts him in more danger?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Stiles said thoughtfully, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He grabbed his sister’s hands and pulled them up and into the attic. 

“Your idea is more magic?” Lydia asked, frowning slightly.

“I saw a spell in here the other day that is just perfect for you,” Stiles assured her, flipping through the pages of the Book. Allison lounged on the sofa; standing was for squares. “Here!”

“A truth spell?” Lydia looked unconvinced.

“It wears off in twenty-four hours and no one will remember what happened except us,” Stiles said. “The downside is that we’ll have to tell the truth to anyone who asks us a question, too.” He shrugged. “Worth it.”

Hmmm, Allison wasn’t sure it was the best idea in the world, but she was tipsy enough that it sounded pretty appealing. “Do it!” 

Lydia still looked a bit uncertain, but the grins of her sibling must have pushed her along. She read from the Book:

_For those who want the truth revealed,_  
_Opened hearts and secrets unsealed,_  
_From now until it's now again,_  
_After which the memory ends._  
_Those who now are in this house,_  
_Will hear the truth from other's mouths._

“Do you think it worked?” Stiles wondered aloud. 

Lydia narrowed her yes. “Did you throw up in Grams’ favorite antique vase and then knock it over when I was in high school?”

“No, Allison did,” Stiles responded immediately, before clapping a hand to his mouth. 

“Wait, what? I got grounded for that; Grams thought I was drinking!” Lydia exclaimed, rounding on her sister.

“So I may have been the one that had too much to drink,” Allison admitted sheepishly. Her little act of teenage rebellion had hardly ended well. 

“And you knew?” Lydia questioned, turning to Stiles. “You told Grams you saw me do it! I thought you were lying because you binged on candy or something.”

“Well, yeah, I saw her do it. But I was eleven and you were a mean teenager, so I told Ally I’d cover for her,” Stiles said with a smirk. There were perks to being the middle sibling, Allison thought. “At least we know the spell works. Anyway, we cast it at ten o’clock, so you have until ten tomorrow. Now call him!”

“Does it work on the phone?” Allison asked. 

“Probably not. I’ll ask him to come over,” Lydia decided. She pulled out her phone to call Jordan, before looking at her siblings and stalking out of the room for privacy. Allison wondered if letting the two talk with Lydia slightly inebriated was really the best choice here…eh, she’d be fine. 

X

“Jordan, hi!” came the surprisingly bubbly greeting when the inspector answered his phone.

“Lydia…you’re okay, right? Everything worked out?” he wondered.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine!” the redhead responded with a giggle. Wait, a giggle?

“Lydia, are you drunk?” 

“No!”

“Lydia.”

“It takes more than a little wine to make me drunk,” Lydia said haughtily. Jordan sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose. Well, at least she was okay. “Come over.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you wanted to know what I’ve been hiding, so come over so we can talk,” the redhead said.

“Lydia, you’re not completely yourself right now,” Jordan began reluctantly. “I want you to decide if you’re going to tell me what’s going on when you’re completely sober, not like this.”

Lydia huffed on the other end. “Fiiine, then how about tomorrow morning? Will you come over then?”

“Yeah, I’ll come see you in the morning,” Jordan agreed softly. He hoped that she would still be in a sharing mood then. “Don’t forget to drink some water before you go to bed.”

“I will,” Lydia promised, sounding soft. “Good night, Jordan.”

“Good night, Lydia.” 

X

“Hey,” Jordan said nervously.

“Hey,” Lydia responded breathlessly. She was going to do it. She was going to tell him about magic. Okay, maybe casting a truth spell while tipsy wasn’t the way to go about this, but at least she’d finally know if she had a real shot with Jordan. “Come in.” She led him to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, I’m already pretty keyed up,” Jordan immediately answered. He looked taken aback for a moment. Maybe she shouldn’t mention the whole truth spell part. “Uh, where are your siblings?”

“They scattered as soon as I told them you were coming over,” Lydia admitted. “Uh, so, I guess you want to know what’s been going on.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” 

“So I think it’d be easier if I just showed you. But you might want to be sitting down for this.” Jordan raised an eyebrow but made a show of sitting down at the table. “Okay, um, here goes.” She squinted at the table and the fruit bowl sitting on it moved a foot down its length. 

The inspector’s eyes widened. “What the hell?” 

“So I’m a witch. That’s what I’ve been hiding. Well, what we’ve been hiding. It’s kind of a family thing,” Lydia babbled. Ordinarily, Lydia Stilinski was no babbler—that was more Stiles’ thing—but this was Jordan and she was finally telling him the secret that could make or break their relationship. 

“What?” Jordan asked, looking dumbfounded. 

“A witch. Like a Wiccan. I actually don’t know if we count because we’re not really into the spiritual aspect, which actually has the most interesting history if you try to study the subject—uh,” she hastily cut herself off, now was not the time to get into academics. “Anyway, we’re witches. We fight demons and warlocks, and we try to help people. We only found out recently, when Stiles came back home.”

“Wait, Stiles, what happened to him?”

“Our grandfather is a supernatural creature hunter. He threatened to kill us all when we were kids unless my dad joined the family business again. My dad tried coming back to steal the Book of Shadows—it’s our family’s magic book—so that we wouldn’t become witches or so that he could strip our powers if we had. He thought we’d be safer as mortals. But Gerard, his father, found out and hurt Stiles. He was going to kill him in front of us to punish Chris, but Chris made some kind of deal with him to get him to leave us all alone again. We’ve been paranoid that the hunters would come back ever since.” Lydia’s eyes widened at how much she said. Maybe the truth spell wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“And the intruder in your office? And the Stilinski murders?” Jordan pressed, gazing at her intently.

“It was a warlock I accidentally released from imprisonment in a locket. He wanted to steal my family’s powers and then kill us. He killed those two people while looking for us,” Lydia answered, looking away. She knew it technically wasn’t her fault, but she still felt responsible for their deaths. “We locked him away again.”

“I…wow, I just wasn’t expecting that,” Jordan admitted. “It makes a disturbing amount of sense, though. I think your Grams might have used magic on me as a kid because some of my memories here are…weird.”

“Same,” Lydia responded wryly, taking in his reaction. He looked a bit shaken, but otherwise alright. “So is this something you’re okay with?”

“Okay with?” Jordan echoed, looking confused. “I mean, it’s who you are, right?”

“Yeah,” Lydia answered, a bit relieved. “This is our destiny. Becoming witches. Protecting innocents. It’s just a lot. I didn’t even want to believe it at first. I was ready to have Stiles committed when he started talking about having visions of the future. And even when I realized it was all real, I was just…not sure if I wanted it. But I don’t really get a choice in that. You do, though. So…”

“Oh,” Jordan said, looking down. “So…demons and warlocks…are you in danger a lot?”

“Basically every day,” Lydia snorted. “A demon can attack at any time. And then there’s the threat of hunters looming over us constantly.”

Jordan straightened. “Give me the names of the hunters and I’ll put them away.”

Lydia smiled gently. “It’s really not that simple, Jordan. And it’s really not the issue of the moment.”

The inspector nodded reluctantly and went silent. A moment later his phone began to ring. “Sorry, I’ve gottta take this, it’s Boyd. Hey. Yeah. Yeah, I’m at Lydia’s. Do we both need to be there? I…yeah, sorry, of course. I’ll be there soon. Bye.” He grimaced, “The M.E. found something weird about the causes of death for the two Stilinski murders. Boyd wants me to meet him at the morgue. I guess I can’t exactly tell him there’s no point in investigating because a warlock did it, but it’s okay because he’s stuck in a magic locket now.”

Lydia frowned uncomfortably. “No, I guess you can’t.”

He nodded. “Okay, well, I’ve really got to go now. I’ll…see you later. We’ll talk.”

“Jordan,” Lydia began.

“Please, Lydia, I have to go pretend I don’t know who killed these people. And I need some time, okay?” He didn’t look angry, but he certainly didn’t look happy with her either.

“Okay. Sorry,” she responded quietly. He hesitantly squeezed her shoulder before leaving. Lydia sighed and sunk into a kitchen chair. She only had until ten to get an answer for him. Somehow she didn’t think that was quite the time he meant.

X

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, looking at Allison with concern. 

“No, I’m kind of a paranoid mess right now,” Allison admitted, cursing herself internally. Why did she think going on her first date with Scott while under a truth spell was a good idea again? Wait, did lunch even count as a date or was that only dinner? Scott blinked in surprise, so Allison decided to just go for it. “You’re not evil, are you? Like, you don’t want to hurt or kill me?”

“No, I’m more of an angel really,” Scott responded. He jolted a bit at his own honesty. An angel? Well, Allison could definitely work with that.

“Sorry, I know that sounds really weird,” Allison said. “I just…I normally consider myself a really good judge of character, but not too long ago, I trusted someone that I really shouldn’t have. I’ve just been a bit, well, paranoid since then.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Scott assured her with a soft smile. “When someone hurts you after you let them in, it can be hard to trust again. I’m really glad you gave me a chance.” He reached over and squeezed her hand on the table. She blushed. He’s been absolutely amazing from the beginning, but some small part of her had been waiting for another Matt episode. At least she could rest easy now. And enjoy the rest of their date.

X

Okay, it was nine fifty-five and Lydia was officially panicking. She had called Jordan’s cell phone and work phone to no avail. She had stopped by the station, where a judgmental Boyd had told her that Jordan had left already. She got to his apartment half an hour ago and knocked on the door for a good five minutes before admitting defeat. The stupid spell was going to wear off before she even got her answer.

The witch heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Jordan suddenly emerged, carrying groceries. Groceries. He had been out grocery shopping. Of course. 

“Lydia?” the inspector asked, looking surprised. 

“Hi, sorry, I just needed to talk to you,” she said quickly. Time was running out.

“You know, when I said I needed time, I was kinda hoping for more than a few hours,” he commented lightly, balancing his groceries as he unlocked his door. “Do you want to come in?”

“No, I just need an answer from you. Right now.”

“Right now? Lydia…”

“Look, I know it’s not fair, believe me. I just really need you to say what you feel within the next couple of minutes. It’s really important. Please,” Lydia pleaded. 

Jordan sighed and looked at her sadly. “I…I don’t know if this is something I can do. I don’t know if I can handle knowing that you’re in danger all the time. That one day, I might come home and you won’t be there because some demon got lucky. And if we ever had kids? I just…I don’t know if I could live with that kind of threat in their lives. I just don’t know, Lydia.” 

“Oh,” was all the witch could manage, her heart sinking. She didn’t know why she had thought his answer would be any different. This wasn’t exactly a safe lifestyle she was asking him to choose.

“I…” he looked dazed for a moment and shook himself slightly. “Lydia? What are you doing here?” 

The redhead frowned, then checked her watch. Ten o’clock. The spell’s worn off. “Uh, no reason. I wanted to ask you something, but I guess I already know the answer.”

“What are you talking about?” the inspector demanded. “What’s going on now?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Lydia said, with a sad smile. “I think I just realized that we’re not going to work out, are we? Not like this.”

Hurt and disappointment flashed across Jordan’s face. “Not if you don’t tell me what’s going on, Lydia.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered.

The inspector sighed. “Me too.”

X

“You broke up with him in the hallway outside his apartment?” Stiles confirmed, wincing. “A bit harsh, Lyds.”

The redhead pursed her lips. “Well I didn’t see a point in dragging it out. We both knew we were headed this way after everything that’s happened.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him the truth? Again, I mean, after the spell wore off. He reacted pretty well. Maybe with some time things would’ve worked out,” Stiles offered.

“Maybe. But you didn’t see his face when he left for work, Stiles. Knowing that he had to continue to investigate a crime committed by a warlock and not being able to tell anyone. Even if he got used to the idea of magic being in his life, it’s not fair to put him in that position,” Lydia responded quietly. 

Allison looked at her with sympathy. She had really thought Lydia and Jordan would get their chance. Hopefully, this whole thing would at least help Lydia move on. She excused herself as the doorbell rang to go let Scott in.

“Hey,” she greeted, biting her lip to keep from smiling too widely. Their lunch date had gone extremely well…not that he’d remember it, she suddenly realized. Great.

“Hi,” the handyman responded, smiling softly at her. “So I was thinking, maybe after I finish today, we could go get dinner?” He peered at her hopefully under his lashes. 

Allison grinned and shot forward, kissing him soundly. He looked a bit dazed when she pulled back. “Dinner sounds great.” 

“Oh. Good. I’ll, uh, get to work, then,” he stuttered out, blinking at her and blushing a bit as he moved to get started. Allison just hoped that Lydia’s failed relationship wasn’t a sign of things to come for all three siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit I'm not fond of the pacing of this chapter, but I've been really busy and wanted to put a chapter out, so this is the end result. Condensing the first two seasons is harder than I thought it would be, but I've got it planned out, so I'm not just winging it. I'd also like to note that the spells used in this chapter were definitely written by the Charmed writers, so I can't be blamed if they're lame.
> 
> Up next: Harris acts even shadier


	7. Horrible Bosses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I know so little about proper police/legal procedure and really don't have the time to look it all up, so this chapter/story is probably inaccurate in that regard.

“Would you please not jinx this for us?” Lydia pleaded as she and her brother entered the Manor.

“I’m just saying that it’s really weird that no warlock has popped up to attack us in the last few weeks. I mean, Matthew basically he told us he was working with someone else,” Stiles argued. 

The redhead rolled her eyes. “Yes, and we’ve been studying the Book and getting back to those martial arts classes to be ready for whatever’s coming. But that doesn’t mean you need to ruin a perfectly good shopping trip with the demon talk.”

“Okay, don’t act like I enjoy going shopping with you. All you ever do is ask my opinion and then tell me it doesn’t matter anyway,” her brother pointed out.

“That’s because you have zero taste,” Lydia retorted. “You’re just there to keep me company. If I was looking for real feedback, I’d take Allison.”

“Speaking of my favorite sister,” Stiles began. She narrowed her eyes at her smirking brother. “Where is she? Her car’s in the driveway.” 

Lydia shrugged and moved toward the kitchen. Her eyes widened at the sight of her giggling, half-naked sister dangling a strawberry covered in whipped cream over their shirtless handyman’s mouth. “Seriously?” she couldn’t help but blurt out. These two were like something out of a cheesy movie at all times.

Allison turned and gasped. “Lydia! Uh, we didn’t hear you come home.”

“The kitchen, Allison? Really?” The redhead arched an eyebrow at the blushing couple.

“Yikes,” Stiles added, entering the room. “Have you two not been properly shamed yet?”

“Okay, we’re going now and never talking about this again,” Allison said, not meeting her siblings’ eyes and dragging her boyfriend out of the room. And the strawberries, of course. 

Lydia rolled her eyes and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “They’re like fucking teenagers. Or teenagers fucking, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Stiles hummed non-committedly as she took a swig of water. 

The eldest sibling zeroed in on her brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What? I didn’t say anything,” the brunet protested.

“No, but you wanted to,” Lydia responded wryly. 

“It’s just, you’ve been a bit…bitter lately, don’t you think?” her brother said delicately.

“No, I don’t think,” the redhead retorted, gripping her water tightly. 

Stiles looked at her with sympathy that made her want to punch him in the face. “Lyds, I get that what happened with Jordan really hurt you, but Allison is _really_ happy with Scott. You could stand to be a little nicer to them.”

“Do you think I’m jealous or something? That I’m not happy for her?” Lydia demanded angrily. She _was_ happy for Allison; her little sister deserved a happy, easy relationship after what had gone down with Matt. She just didn’t need to see them all over each other in her kitchen, okay?

Stiles sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “No, Lyds, that’s not what I meant. I just…never mind. Forget I said anything.” He shot her a weary smile and left the room. Well, the day had started out nicely, at least. She had met up with Stiles after work for dinner and some shopping, but now she just felt tired and sick of the world. She wasn’t _bitter_ , she thought absently. Screw Stiles.

X

“Screw Stiles,” Adrian Harris said, smirking as his transparent form followed the eldest Charmed One up the stairs. “He’s always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Now, go to your room and open your bag.” The redhead walked into her room and set down the bag she brought to work every day, opening it up. “Good, now you will see your day planner in there. Pick it up and put it in your desk.” The witch picked up the gorgeous tiara sitting in her bag and put it in her desk drawer. Perfect. 

It had taken some time to track down this particular power and gain mastery over it, but damn was it worth it. Telepathic suggestion on its own was a highly coveted power, but one that was combined with a form of astral projection was extremely rare and highly useful. The witch Harris stole it from was a cop that used it to convince criminals to confess their crimes. What a waste. It was much better off in his hands.

He could even have a bit of fun with it. “Now, you want to take a shower. Undress.” Lydia began to unbutton her shirt, revealing a lacy black bra underneath. The warlock plopped his astral form down on the bed and settled in for a show. 

“Hey, Lydia, do you have my—ack, dude, close the door next time,” Stiles said, averting his eyes. Lydia looked startled and a bit confused. Harris rolled his eyes. Well, fuck, then, he shouldn’t push his luck. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he was back in his office at Harris’ Auctions, his mind back in his body.

The warlock stood up, wincing a bit and rubbing at his temples. So using the power gave him a bit of a headache, it was worth it. Lydia had the tiara and didn’t even know it. It wouldn’t be long until Harris had the Charmed Ones’ powers and the witches dead at his feet. 

X

“Yo, why are the police here?” Stiles asked, eyes bugging out a bit as he entered his sister’s office the next morning. 

“Apparently, our latest acquisition, a priceless Romanov tiara has been stolen from the vault,” Lydia responded, groaning in frustration. “It’s been an absolute mess. The police are questioning everyone who works here.” 

There was a knock on the open door and Lydia’s face dropped a bit. Stiles whirled around to see Jordan and his partner standing in the doorway. Yikes. “Jordan, Boyd, hey,” Stiles greeted uneasily. 

“Stiles, do you work here, too, now?” the inspector asked.

“No, I was just stopping by to tell Lydia something, but I can see this is a bad time,” the brunet answered. 

“Would you mind stepping out for a bit while we ask your sister a few questions?” Boyd requested in that way that means it’s not really a request. 

“Wait, aren’t you guys homicide? Why are you investigating a robbery?” Stiles demanded. 

“We were free when the call came in, and it’s pretty high-profile, so they gave us the case. Now, if you don’t mind,” Jordan gestured at the door. Stiles narrowed his eyes. As if he was going to leave his sister to face the Inquisition in the form of a biased ex and his partner. 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” the redhead quietly assured him. “Just wait outside.” 

“Fine,” the witch muttered, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. He huffed and crossed his arms as he waited. A few minutes later a tall, dark-haired man with glasses approached him.

“Are you waiting to see Lydia Stilinski?” he politely inquired.

“More like waiting for the police to stop grilling her about this tiara,” Stiles answered.

“Ah, I see, and you are?” 

“Her brother. Stiles. You?”

“My name’s Adrian Harris. I own the auction house,” the man informed him genially.

Stiles straightened, whoops. “Oh, nice to meet you. I’m sorry about the tiara, by the way. I hope the police find it soon.”

Harris chuckled. “So do I. It’s certainly been a stressful morning. And to think, I started off the day in such a great mood because I got tickets to see The Sacrifice tonight.”

“The Sacrifice? Wow, I love that band! How’d you get tickets?” the witch enthusiastically replied. This guy really didn’t look like he’d be into their punk rock tone, but he certainly just gained a few brownie points.

“Oh, I’ve got a friend in the music industry that sends me tickets from time to time. I have an extra one, if you’d like to accompany me. It would certainly be more fun than going alone,” Harris responded with a charming smile. 

Uh, did Harris just ask him out? Because he was kinda cute, but he was definitely Lydia’s boss and she would absolutely kill him if he went out with her boss. As much as he’d love to see The Sacrifice play live, he’d rather stay alive. “I really wish I could, but I have something else planned tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Well, if your plans change, here is my business card. My cell phone number is on the back, so just call and let me know,” the business owner said agreeably. Lydia’s office door opened and Jordan eyed the pair for a moment. 

“Mr. Harris, we’re done here, for now. We’ll let you know if we find anything,” the cop promised.

“Thank you, Inspector. I’ll see you out then. Goodbye, Stiles, it was nice to meet you. I do hope your plans change,” Harris said, sending Stiles one more smile before leading the cops to the elevator.

Stiles re-entered Lydia’s office. “Hey, are you okay? What happened?”

“Nothing much. They asked me about the last time I saw the tiara and the vault’s security, but it’s not like I saw anything helpful. I have no idea who took the thing. I’m fairly certain they think it’s an inside job, which is pretty reasonable,” the redhead answered, sighing. 

“And how was Jordan?” the brunet asked a bit hesitantly.

“He acted like I was just another employee,” Lydia admitted, looking upset. 

“I’m sorry, Lyds,” the younger Stilinski said quietly. 

“Thanks,” she responded. “So, what did you come here to tell me, anyway?”

X

“Tell her that her boss just asked you out,” Harris commanded before the male witch could answer his sister. He had faked a phone call to get away from the cops and back to his office. These witches were just too easy to manipulate.

“You know, I actually just met your boss, Harris. He, uh, asked me to go to a concert with him tonight,” Stiles said.

Lydia’s eyebrows shot up. “You said no, right?”

“Of course, I said no,” Stiles retorted, crossing his arms.

“But you’ve changed your mind. You really like that band and you think you could really like Harris. Plus it couldn’t hurt to mess with Lydia a bit. Going out with her boss would drive her nuts; it would be hilarious,” the warlock said smoothly, watching the drama unfold.

“But he gave me his number and I think I’m going to call and take him up on that offer. It sounds like fun,” the witch said thoughtfully.

“What? Are you serious? Stiles, he’s my boss!” the redhead exclaimed. “I’ve mixed my personal life with my job before and it nearly ruined my career!”

“Relax, Lyds, it’s just a concert. It’s not like you’re the one going with him, anyway,” the brunet said, rolling his eyes.

“You don’t want to deal with her when she’s like this. Leave and call Harris to tell him you can go to the concert,” Harris ordered.

“You know what, Lydia? I don’t want to fight about this; I’m just gonna go,” Stiles said wearily, turning and leaving without even a goodbye.

Lydia gritted her teeth as she watched him go. Harris watched the witch with a triumphant smile. That should keep her sufficiently distracted.

X

“Come on, Lydia, it’s just one date. One date with a cute, professional guy. Stiles could do a lot worse,” Allison tried to reason with her sister as she kept an eye out on a recent new hire at the bar.

“A date with my _boss_ ,” Lydia reminded her. “How’d you like it if Stiles went out with Martin?”

Allison snorted. “I’d love it; maybe he’d finally give me a night off.”

“Hmm, well if I recall last night correctly, you were getting busy with your new boyfriend in our kitchen, not Quake’s.”

The brunette blushed. She was never going to live that down, was she? “Right, well, you don’t know how much begging I had to do to get last night off. Martin’s decided that since I’m so good at filling in for the assistant manager, he’s just going to dump everything on me. He barely even shows up anymore.”

“Maybe you should start looking for another job, then,” Lydia suggested.

“You think?” Allison asked, biting her lip. “I feel like I just got this one. And it was supposed to be the big launch of my career. Not that I ever get to fucking cook anymore.”

“If you’re not happy here, then you should look for something else, Ally,” her sister assured her. “You’ve been wanting this too long to get stuck working for this jerk.” 

Allison mulled it over. Maybe it was time to move on from Quake after all. She spotted a familiar face headed their way. “Looks like the date went well.” Lydia furrowed her eyebrows. 

“Hey, guys,” Stiles enthused.

“How was the concert?” Allison asked.

“Amazing! Adrian even had backstage passes!” the brunet gushed. “I got to meet the band; it was awesome!”

The man beside him smiled, “Well, the company certainly made up for the bad day I’ve had. Would you two like to join us for a drink?”

Lydia smiled tightly. “No, thank you.”

“I’ll grab you two a table!” Allison exclaimed. It was probably better to get these two away from Lydia as fast as possible. She quickly seated them at a table and returned to her fuming sister.

“Drinks? They’re doing drinks now, too? Is it too much to ask for some distance between my personal and professional lives?” the redhead demanded.

“Oh, Lydia, calm down. Stiles isn’t stupid. He’s not going to do anything to jeopardize your job,” Allison argued. “Just don’t start another fight over this, please.” If she had to live through The Jackson Debacle 2.0, she’d probably just kill them both and be done with it.

“Fine,” Lydia huffed, crossing her arms. Allison sighed; her sister hadn’t really been the same since she had broken up with Jordan. She’d been more on edge and easily irritated. Allison just hoped it was temporary because it was getting harder to deal with by the day.

X

“These are for you,” Lydia said shortly, shoving a box and note into Stiles’ hands. He blinked in surprise. Well, that was one way to start the day. He opened the box first to find red roses…okay. His brow furrowed as he quickly scanned the note that came with it.

“They’re from Adrian. As a thanks for last night. That’s…nice,” the brunet said gamely. More like a bit much. He could tell Adrian was an old soul, but still, this was odd. He looked up to find Lydia glaring at the flowers. “Relax, it was just a date. I didn’t sleep with him, okay?”

“Mmmhmm,” the other witch hummed, turning away from him and heading toward the kitchen. He rolled his eyes and was about to follow her when the doorbell rang. Stiles frowned, it was a little early for a social call. He hesitantly opened the door to find Jordan and Boyd standing on the porch. Déjà vu. 

“Uh, hey, guys? What’s up?”

Jordan grimaced as Boyd held up a piece of paper. “We have a warrant to search your house for the Romanov tiara.”

“Wait, what the fuck?” The witch grabbed the warrant and scanned it, but they weren’t lying. “On what grounds?”

“Your sister was the last Harris’ Auctions employee to enter the vault and one of the last to leave the auction house that night. I’m sorry, Stiles, but you have to let us in,” Jordan answered regretfully. The brunet silently stepped back to allow the inspectors to enter.

“What’s going on?” Allison asked as she and Lydia entered the foyer, no doubt drawn by the voices.

“They’re looking for the tiara,” Stiles said, waving the warrant around.

“What? I had nothing to do with it being stolen,” Lydia argued, glaring at her ex. 

He frowned back at her. “I’m sorry, Lydia, I’m just doing my job. I’d be pulled from the case if I didn’t do this. And believe me, you’re better off with me investigating this than someone else.” The siblings watched helplessly as the cops moved through their home, searching every nook and cranny they could think of. 

The Stilinskis followed them up to search the bedrooms. As Jordan opened the desk drawer, he turned and told Boyd to check behind her pillows. Allison’s eyes widened and she shot out a hand, freezing the room.

“What are you doing?” Lydia demanded.

“Why is the stolen tiara in your _desk_?” Allison shot back, scurrying forward to grab the antique. 

“Holy shit. Lydia, what did you do?” Stiles asked, staring at the tiara. He’d never seen so many diamonds on one thing. 

“I didn’t do anything! I don’t know how it got there. Hide it before they unfreeze!” Lydia said frantically, eying the cops nervously.

X

“Check the top left dresser drawer,” Harris lazily ordered. Inspector Boyd moved to open the dresser. He was stopped by that damn witch freezing the room again. The warlock rolled his eyes. They couldn’t keep this up.

“Put it behind the pillow; he already checked there,” Stiles suggested, and his sister hurried to do so, before unfreezing the mortals.

“Check behind the pillows again,” Harris said, growing annoyed with this game. A strange, contemplative look passed over Inspector Parrish’s face as he moved to grab one of the pillows. Allison’s hands shot out, freezing him and Inspector Boyd.

“What the fuck?” Stiles exclaimed.

“Okay, this is leaving the room,” Allison decided, shaking her head in frustration. She returned without the stolen object and unfroze the room. The inspectors continued to check every hiding place they could think of. Harris ground his teeth as he watched them move from room to room, but they couldn’t find the tiara anywhere. 

“Where do those stairs go?” Inspector Boyd asked, gesturing at the stairs leading up from the second floor.

“Attic,” Allison responded. “If you can get that door opened, go for it. It’s been stuck shut for years.” Harris watched as the cop narrowed his eyes suspiciously and moved up the stairs to test her story. After several minutes of jiggling, grunting, and some attempted lock-picking, he gave up and returned to the group on the second floor.

“That door’s been locked for as long as I’ve known them,” Inspector Parrish noted with a shrug. “We can try to get a team out here to open it up, but I doubt we’d find anything.”

“We’ll see about that,” his partner said evenly, eying the Stilinskis with distrust. 

“But for now, we’ll go,” the other inspector said. Lydia nodded and walked the two men downstairs.

“How’d you do that?” Stiles asked his sister, gesturing toward the stairs.

“I found Grams’ old spell for keeping that door shut a while ago. Seemed like the perfect chance to try it out,” the brunette replied with a proud grin.

Harris’ teeth bared in a silent snarl. He resisted the urge to tell the witch to jump out a window, only saying “You want to see Adrian tonight” before closing his eyes and returning to his body. The warlock pulled out his phone to call a certain witch. He had a date to arrange.

X

“I’ll meet you out there in a minute,” Jordan promised. Boyd raised a skeptical eyebrow but headed for their car. “For what it’s worth, Lydia, I really don’t think you did this. I mean, if you really did want to rob the place you work, I’m fairly certain you’d have done it a lot smarter.” The inspector smiled wryly at her. 

“Well, you got that right,” the redhead responded. Her tone turned more somber. “How bad does this look?”

Jordan sighed. “The evidence is circumstantial, but it’s pointing at you, Lydia. You should think about contacting a lawyer.”

“Great,” the witch said, rubbing her temples. “This is just great.” She sighed and looked up at Jordan. It felt a little bit better knowing that he didn’t actually think she did this, at least. “Thanks, Jordan, for doing what you can.”

“I’m going to find the person that really did this, Lydia,” the inspector vowed. “I won’t let you go down for this.”

“Better not let Boyd hear you say that,” the redhead said lightly. “I don’t want anyone thinking you’re biased.”

Jordan snorted. “Oh, he already knows I’m biased. But he also knows I’ll do what’s right. And catching the real thief is what’s right.” He looked down at his phone. “I’ve gotta go. Take care, Lydia.”

“You too,” she called out as he exited the Manor. She closed the door with a sigh and went to go collapse on the sunroom couch. She didn’t even want to go to work today. Would she even be allowed in, considering she was the prime suspect in a robbery? 

“Hey, how are you doing?” her sister asked, walking into the room.

“Just wondering why we’re not called the Cursed Ones,” she responded idly. “I don’t know what happened, Ally. I don’t know how that tiara got there.”

“Someone must have planted it,” the brunette said, thinking it over. “The question is, was it someone human or supernatural?”

“When is anything ever human for us anymore?” Lydia said dully. 

“I don’t know, this seems like a pretty human crime,” Stiles announced, joining them. “Got any enemies at the auction house that would want to frame you?”

“I’m pretty sure no one there hates me that much,” Lydia said, before eying him suspiciously. “Wait, where were you?”

Stiles studiously looked away. “So Adrian might have called and invited me to dinner tonight.”

“Seriously? I’m being framed for theft and you’re planning dates with my boss?” the redhead demanded incredulously. 

“Yeah, I guess now’s not the best time,” Stiles said, frowning slightly. “I just really wanted to see him.”

Allison glared at Lydia; the redhead sighed. “Well, don’t bother cancelling. The cops didn’t find anything and we hid the tiara, so I’m safe for now. Not that I even know where to start tackling this.”

“Okay, you are going into work because we don’t need to give the police any more reasons to suspect you. Stiles and I will look through the Book for any kind of demon that tries to mess with witches through legal means,” Allison decided. 

“And you really think you’re going to find something?” Lydia asked skeptically. It seemed pretty far-fetched to her.

“No, but we have to try,” the brunette responded, shrugging. “We’ll let you know if it helps. And if it doesn’t, I’ll call a lawyer.”

Lydia nodded and moved to gather her things for work. She honestly couldn’t believe this was happening. She hoped the solution would be as simple as a demon vanquish, though, because felon orange wasn’t exactly her color.

X

Stiles cursed and looked down at the note in his phone to make sure he was in front of the right door. He was already late; he didn’t need to waste more time knocking on the wrong door. But no, this was it. He knocked and a moment later the door swung open. Adrian stood in the doorway with a charming smile; Stiles smiled back uncertainly. He didn’t really know why he was here, to be honest. There hadn’t really been a spark between the two. But something kept drawing Stiles back to the man.

“Hi, come on in,” the auction owner greeted, stepping back to let the witch in. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got a great wine in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds great,” Stiles responded.

“Just sit down; I’ll be back in a minute,” his host promised, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Stiles looked around the condo, taking in the expensive-looking décor. Nice place, he thought idly. He walked toward the couch, but stopped in his tracks when a premonition struck him.

_Lydia was running through the hallways of Harris’ Auctions being chased by a stranger holding an athame. She ran into the auction house’s storage room, the warlock right behind her._

He gasped and opened his eyes. Lydia was still at work and that was the outfit she had been wearing that morning; this could be happening now. Stiles ran from the condo, not even thinking to give Adrian an excuse. He had to get to Lydia.

X

Harris grinned as he heard the witch flee the apartment. He looked at the glittering tiara in his hand as pulled out his phone and dialed 9-1-1. “Help, I’m at Harris’ Auctions. Someone’s trying to kill me. Please help me!” He leisurely hung up; everything was falling into place. He blinked to the auction house’s storage unit. 

“Mr. Harris? What? How did you do that?” a portly security officer spluttered out, stepping away from the warlock with wide eyes. Harris rolled his eyes and grabbed a nearby hand-carved totem. This would do nicely. He blinked behind the other man and promptly bashed him in the head with the artifact, an easy smile on his face.

Now, all he had to do was get Lydia moving. He closed his eyes again and moved his consciousness to her office. 

“Someone’s here. A warlock. You’re in danger. You have to run.”

X

Lydia groaned at her computer when she saw the time. She was supposed to leave over an hour ago, but she had gotten caught up looking through the employee database and trying to figure out who would want to frame her. Not that she had anything to show for it. Lydia was good at her job and on good terms with her colleagues; she couldn’t think of one person who would do this.

She was about to start packing up her stuff when the hair on the back of her neck started to stand up. Someone was here. A warlock. She was in danger. She had to run. The redhead got up and ran to the elevators. She took one down to the first floor, intent on getting away from the warlock. But before she could leave the building she heard someone scream. It sounded like it was coming from their storage unit. She had to go check on them. What if the warlock had hurt an innocent?

Lydia ran into the storage unit. She spotted a heavy wooden artifact laying on the ground and found herself picking it up. Her brow furrowed as she looked past the totem in her hand to what must have been the source of the scream. Jerome, one of their security officers lay on the ground, head resting in a pool of blood. 

She frowned as she heard a familiar voice yelling her name from afar. “I’m in here!” she called back. Stiles ran into the room, paling suddenly. 

“Lydia?” He seemed to be taking in the bloody tableau before him. 

“We have to call the cops. We have to—” 

“Hands in the air! SFPD!” 

The siblings looked at each other in horror and slowly raised their hands, one of Lydia’s still holding the artifact. The pair of uniformed officers that had entered the room slowly walked toward them, taking in the scene. 

“Ma’am, slowly put that thing down. No sudden movements,” the taller one ordered, as the other checked Jerome’s pulse. He shook his head and radioed the station. Homicide. Jerome was dead. Lydia shook slightly as she slowly lowered the artifact to the ground. 

“I found him like this. I was working late, and I heard him scream, so I came to check out what was happening,” she offered. She couldn’t blame the officer for looking suspicious; she didn’t even know why she had picked up the murder weapon, but it wasn’t exactly an innocent move. 

“And you?” the cop asked Stiles, hand resting on his gun.

“I was just looking for my sister,” he said shakily, nodding toward Lydia. The redhead pursed her lips as the two officers told them to move away from the crime scene, hands ghosting toward their weapons occasionally in implicit threat. The officers took turns collecting their statements until Jordan and Boyd arrived.

“What happened here?” Jordan demanded, taking in the scene.

“The station got a call from the victim; he said someone was trying to kill him. We were closest, so we headed over here. Got here just after the kid, a Przemysław Stilinski,” the cop made a face as he butchered the name. Lydia would’ve rolled her eyes if she wasn’t currently a murder suspect. “We followed him in. Lydia Stilinski, an employee of the auction house, was standing over the victim, holding a wooden artifact that appears to have blood on it. She said that she was heading home, heard a scream, and decided to investigate. Apparently, she just picked up the artifact out of shock.”

“I didn’t say it was out of shock,” Lydia snapped. She turned toward the homicide inspectors. “I saw the artifact lying on the floor and picked it up. _Then_ I saw him. I didn’t know it…” The redhead shook her head, trying to dispel the image of Jerome’s body from her mind.

Jordan looked pained. “Lydia, this doesn’t look good.”

“I know,” she bit out, looking away. 

“Stiles, what did you see when you got here?” Jordan asked the brunet.

“She didn’t do it,” the witch argued.

“But what did you see?” the inspector pressed.

Stiles looked at Lydia uncertainly, but she nodded at him. Jordan would know if he lied. Might as well not alienate the one cop that might believe her. “The guy was already dead when I came in.”

“And Lydia?” Jordan said, eyes fixed on Stiles.

“Was holding the artifact thing,” Stiles muttered, looking upset. 

“It’s Jerome Wilkinson,” Boyd announced from where he was crouched over the body. Jordan sighed with disappointment and closed his eyes. “Parrish, c’mon.”

“Lydia Stilinski, you are under arrest for murder,” Jordan began. Lydia went numb as he continued on with the rest of her Miranda rights and handcuffed her. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t fucking real.

“What are you doing?” Stiles yelled, moving toward the inspector. 

Boyd smoothly blocked his way. “Don’t make this worse, Stiles. You’re off the hook here.”

“She didn’t do anything! She just found him!” Stiles retorted, glaring up at the hulking inspector.

“She was standing over a dead man’s body with the likely murder weapon,” Boyd calmly responded.

“That’s not proof!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Jerome Wilkinson was the security officer working the night the tiara was stolen,” Jordan explained regretfully. “He and Lydia were the last ones here that night. That’s enough for motive.” The man looked like it pained him to even say it.

“She didn’t take the damn tiara,” Stiles ground out. 

“She was the only one with access to the vault that was here that night,” Boyd continued. “And she was the one who gave us the security tapes for the auction house for the night of the robbery.”

“So?’ Stiles demanded.

“So the one from the vault was mysteriously missing,” Boyd answered. 

“No, I gave you all the tapes,” Lydia protested.

“Not all of them,” Jordan countered softly. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I tried putting this off until we found something to exonerate you, but I can’t let you go after this.” He nodded to one of the uniformed officers, and he came forward to lead Lydia away.

“No,” Stiles said, moving toward his sister. It was Jordan this time who stopped him. 

“Stiles, it’s okay. Go home, talk to Allison. It’s going to be okay,” the redhead tried to assure her brother while ignoring the cold handcuffs around her wrists. She let the cop lead her to his squad car and tried not to think about all the criminals that had sat in the backseat before her. Lydia could only hope that her siblings would figure out who was framing her and fix this mess.

X

Boyd sighed as Parrish tried to come up with another excuse for his ex. It wasn’t that the man really thought Lydia Stilinski was a thief and a murderer, but the evidence sure was pointing that way and one of them had to follow it. Or at least appear to. Being a werewolf meant that he could tell the Stilinski siblings were, for once, telling the truth. Oh, they had definitely been lying about that attic door being locked, but their heartbeats had never wavered when it came to the tiara or the murder. Not that that would hold up in court. He just needed to find some evidence to prove what his heightened senses knew to be true already. Something Parrish seemed to be forgetting.

“Parrish, I get that you don’t think she did it. Hell, I don’t see her as the murdering type either. But that’s not enough to get her out of this. Stop trying to convince me and start looking for proof,” Boyd advised. His partner fell silent but nodded somberly. The pair entered the precinct and headed for their desks. 

“We won’t hear back from forensics for a while, but let’s get a copy of that 9-1-1 call. Maybe we’ll hear something that’ll help us find the real killer,” Parrish said, reaching for his phone.

“I was under the impression that you two had already caught the killer,” a smooth voice broke in. The partners turned to inspect the newcomer. Dark hair, green eyes, surprisingly muscular under that suit. Werewolf. Wait, not just a werewolf, an alpha. The stranger arched an eyebrow at Boyd, nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly. Great.

“Who are you?” Parrish asked suspiciously, appearing not to notice the two wolves recognizing each other. 

“Derek Hale, assistant district attorney,” the man introduced himself, reaching a hand out for the inspector to shake. Parrish took it reluctantly, looking guarded. If Boyd could smell Parrish’s anxiety, then the ADA certainly could. “Now, I believe you two have the Romanov tiara thief locked up? I’m going to need to see what evidence you’ve collected for my case against her.”

“Isn’t it a bit early to be starting your case? We have a suspect, not a sure thing,” Parrish pointed out.

“The mayor wants this case closed quickly, so I’ve got the DA breathing down my neck,” the werewolf responded with a shrug. “The sooner I prosecute this Lydia Stilinski, the faster all our problems go away.”

“She’s in holding for now,” Boyd said. “And until we get some substantial evidence, like, say, forensics or even fingerprints from the murder weapon, we won’t be booking her.” 

“Fingerprints? From what I’ve heard, she was caught holding the murder weapon, what exactly are you expecting from AFIS?” the ADA countered.

“There were other fingerprints on the artifact,” Parrish retorted. 

“Well, if it was an artifact at an auction house, that’s to be expected,” Hale responded, rolling his eyes.

“Listen, the evidence we have now would get your case dismissed, so I suggest you wait until we have something real to give you,” Boyd stated calmly. 

Hale sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine, you get two days to get me some real evidence or I tell your captain to put more competent detectives on the case.”

“Two _days_?” Parrish exclaimed, gearing up for a rant.

Boyd smoothly cut him off. “That’ll be fine.”

Hale eyed him thoughtfully. “Good.” He nodded at Boyd, before taking off.

“What the hell was that? No one solves a case in two days!” Parrish protested.

“We don’t need to solve the case. We just need to prove Lydia didn’t do it,” Boyd reminded his partner. Parrish was a great cop, but when the woman he was so obviously in love with was involved, all bets were off.

X

“Nice place,” Allison commented. 

“I know, right?” Stiles responded, leading his sister to Adrian’s condo. Getting that premonition about a warlock after Lydia out of nowhere didn’t feel right. Especially when the premonition in question hadn’t come true. It was definitely worth taking another look at the place. “This is it.” He rapped his knuckles on the door. Nothing. 

“Maybe he’s not home?” Allison suggested.

“He’s not the type to be out this late,” Stiles said dryly, knocking again. Frowning at the lack of response, he tried jiggling the door knob. The door easily opened. The siblings hesitantly stepped into the condo. Stiles gaped.

“Maybe you got the wrong door number?”

“No, this is it. This is Adrian’s place. But it didn’t look like this,” Stiles said, looking around the condo that was clearly in the midst of renovation. “It was really nice, like amazingly nice. Not this.”

“This is creepy,” Allison decided. 

“It must have been a spell,” Stiles thought aloud, brow furrowed. “Right? Like a glamour or something? He’s got to be a warlock.”

“A warlock that framed Lydia for theft and murder,” Allison agreed soberly. “Shit, how did we not see this coming?”

Gross, he had dated a warlock. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? Warlocks always want one thing: to steal our powers. His goal isn’t to get Lydia arrested; he’s trying to separate us, separate the Power of Three.”

“Well, it worked! What are we supposed to do?” Allison shot back, frustration evident in her tone. Stiles shot her a sly smile. “No!” She looked hesitant. “I mean, we can’t, right?” Stiles waggled his eyebrows. “Oh my God, fine!”

X

Lydia couldn’t believe she was sitting in county jail. She had always thought Stiles would end up here, but not her. At least they hadn’t made her change into a uniform yet. That would be when they shipped her off to prison, and Jordan can only stall on that front for so long. Great. 

“Wow, never thought I’d get to see this.” Lydia looked up to see her brother smirking at her from the other side of the bars. 

“What are you two doing here? How the hell did you get in?” Lydia demanded as her sister quickly unlocked the jail cell door with a set of keys that most certainly did not belong to her.

“Magic,” Allison replied shortly. “Harris is a warlock; he’s the one that orchestrated all of this. Now come on, before my freeze on the guards wear off!”

“They’re going to notice I’m gone,” the redhead protested. She couldn’t just break out of jail. This was insane. Then again, so was her boss being a supernatural creature determined to destroy them. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and stuffed her pillow under the blanket. “There. They won’t be expecting you to be gone; that should be enough to fool ‘em.” Lydia couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she followed her siblings out the back door of the holding cells. “Okay, now we just need to—”

“Smile; you’re on candid camera,” Harris exclaimed with a slimy grin as he snapped a shot of them on his phone.

“I don’t know what’s worse. You being evil or your shitty one-liners,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

The grin slid of Harris’ face. “Well, here’s this for a one-liner: I’ve got the tiara and a picture of you two sneaking your sister out of jail; if you don’t give me your powers, then Lydia ends up in prison for life. You two will probably get lighter sentences. Or, I can show up to the police station with a nice little story about the tiara having been misplaced. With no theft, Lydia has no motive for murder and would likely be released. And, of course, this picture would disappear.”

“You’re insane,” Lydia bit out, staring at the man she had worked with for months. 

“No, I’m brilliant,” the warlock corrected her, grinning wildly. “Everyone else tried to attack the Charmed Ones head on. Fools.” Harris snorted. “You didn’t even know I was coming. That I could make you do anything I wanted. It was so easy to plant thoughts in your mind. To get you to steal that tiara and not even remember it.” He nodded at Lydia. “To get you to bring me the tiara yourself, sealing your sister’s fate.” He smirked at Stiles.

“Now, there should be a spell in your Book of Shadows that will allow you to release your powers. I want you to put them in here.” He conjured up an empty, antique lantern and laid it on the ground next to him. “Bring them to auction house in two hours or prepare to lose your lives. To the legal system, of all things.” Harris shot them one last triumphant smile and blinked out.

X

“I can’t believe we’re even considering this,” Stiles said, pouting.

“What else are we supposed to do, Stiles?” Allison reasoned, looking over the spell in the Book.

“Kill him?” the brunet suggested.

“I wish,” Lydia snorted, pacing in the center of the attic. “But if we fail or if he blinks out, then we’re screwed.”

“So we’re really doing this,” Stiles noted glumly.

“It’s looking like our only option. Maybe if we had more time…” Allison trailed off. They were already cutting it close to Harris’ imposed deadline. They were out of time and out of options.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Lydia said with a sigh. “I didn’t even consider Harris a threat. How could I not have seen that he was a warlock?”

“Maybe because he’s got weird mind control powers,” Stiles offered. “It’s not your fault. He’s a fucking creep.”

“I’m just glad I’m not the one dating the warlock this time,” Allison added, with a snort. Her siblings glared at her in unison. Whoops. “Okay, are you guys ready to do this?”

“No,” Stiles responded. “But I guess we have to.”

“We have to say it 3 times. One for each of us,” Allison read aloud. Wow, they were really going to give up their powers. She may not have had them long, but they felt like such a huge part of her now. Could they really go back to living as mortals when they knew the alternative? She supposed they had to.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Lydia said. The siblings settled at the low, circular table they had found in the attic. The empty lantern lay at the center of the table with its door open, ready to receive their powers.

“ _From whence they came, return them now; vanish the words, vanish our powers_ ,” Lydia chanted. She looked expectantly at Allison.

“ _From whence they came, return them now; vanish the words, vanish our powers_ ,” Allison repeated, heart beating fast. This was it. 

“ _From whence they came, return them now; vanish the words…vanish our powers_ ,” Stiles said hesitantly. Swirling lights erupted from the three siblings and entered the lantern. Allison reached out to close the container. Those were their powers. So close but lost to them forever.

Lydia squinted her eyes at the lantern. “It worked. My power’s gone.” She got up from the table and walked over to the Book of Shadows. “The Book’s blank. It’s all gone. The demons, the spells…they’re all gone.”

“Great,” Stiles muttered, looking down. Allison reached out to hug her little brother. She may have felt, at times, that magic had been forced upon them, but she felt a little emptier now. Like she could feel her magic missing. 

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Allison said, standing up and grabbing the lantern. 

X

“I’ve sent in a request for voice analytics, but it might take longer than we have. That definitely wasn’t Jerome Wilkinson calling, though,” Boyd announced as he made his way to Jordan’s desk.

“That’s good, but we might not even need it. I told you that voice sounded familiar, right? Well, I think the 9-1-1 caller might have been Adrian Harris,” Jordan responded eagerly. 

“The auction house owner?” Boyd’s eyebrows flew up. 

“Yeah, I mean, I can’t be sure until they analyze the recording, but I followed that hunch and ran a background check,” Jordan replied. “Now this is what I found from casually looking into the man.” He turned his computer to show his partner a file on Adrian Harris, complete with a recent picture of the man. “And this is what I found from digging into some of his older records.” Jordan pulled up his driver’s license from age 20. The man in the picture was blond, tanned, and blue-eyed.

“What? You’re thinking identity theft? This guy inherited an auction house. Surely someone would have figured it out,” Boyd protested as he took in the picture. “This is California; he could’ve decided to change his look up.”

“And his height?” Jordan asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, did the Adrian Harris you met the other day look like he was five-four?”

“Okay, so what happened to this guy?” Boyd questioned, gesturing at the screen.

“I don’t know. He’s probably dead, to be honest,” Jordan responded with a heavy sigh. “I do know that Adrian Harris’ aunt and uncle, the former owners of the auction house, died in a freak car accident on August 6th. Our man showed up to inherit everything, and the first thing he did as the new owner was hire an assistant director. This assistant director then fired most of the people who had been working there for a significant amount of time. People who could’ve known what the real Adrian Harris looked like.” He paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Then he hired Lydia.” But did he hire her with the intent to frame her? Or was she a victim of circumstance?

“Okay, but he had to have known we’d find this out if we looked into him,” Boyd reasoned. “Why would he have stolen the tiara and stuck around? Why wouldn’t he run?”

“I wouldn’t have found this if I hadn’t been looking for something. Maybe he knew that if he avoided becoming a suspect, he could get away with stealing the tiara and keep his cushy lifestyle,” Jordan suggested. The inspector couldn’t believe this guy had been right under their noses the whole time. How many times had he stopped by Lydia’s office and made polite conversation with this murderer?

“This might not be enough to get Hale off our backs, but it’ll be enough for a warrant to check out his home and office for the tiara,” Boyd said, thoughtfully. “But it’ll have to wait until the morning. If we try to wake up a judge now, we’ll be blacklisted.” Jordan nodded, disappointed. He wanted to catch this guy now. Lydia shouldn’t have to spend the night in jail, while the real killer was out there. “Go home, Parrish. Get some sleep. Hopefully, we’ll find the tiara tomorrow, and this will be over.” Jordan really hated that Lydia’s freedom was resting on a hope.

X

“God, this place is so creepy when no one’s here,” Stiles muttered as siblings skulked through the darkened hallways of the auction house.

“Knowing that we’re off to meet a warlock with no powers to defend ourselves doesn’t really help,” Allison added. 

“I can go alone,” Lydia offered. Her siblings shot her twin looks of disdain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“You know, since we might not make it out of this, I might as well tell you guys what I came here to tell Lydia yesterday,” Stiles rambled nervously. “UCSF is gonna let me finish my last semester! I’m gonna be able to get my degree.”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s great,” Allison enthused. 

“Yeah, if we live long enough for me to go back to school,” Stiles said, aiming for nonchalant but looking scared. Lydia squeezed his shoulder in comfort. She didn’t know how tonight was going to end. If Harris would really just let them live. But she’d fight like hell to keep her family safe. She didn’t need powers to kick some ass.

The trio entered Harris’ office, where the warlock was lounging in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Or witches, in this case. “Oh good, I almost thought you weren’t going to show.”

“You are a living cliché,” Stiles sneered.

Harris rolled his eyes. “Hand it over, witch. Or should I say mortal now?” 

Lydia gritted her teeth and shoved the lantern into his hands. It was over. They had really lost.

The warlock gazed at the lantern hungrily. “Amazing. You’re supposed to be the greatest witches to ever live, and now I have your powers. I’m not quite sure if that’s a compliment to me or a sign that prophecies aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.” He switched his gaze to them. “Now, then, time to put an end to this.” He set the lantern on the desk and casually conjured an athame. “You didn’t actually think I’d let you leave, did you?” Lydia moved protectively in front of her siblings. She may not have her powers anymore, but she’d rather die than let them get hurt.

X

Scott arrived in the Manor attic in a cascade of blue and white lights. The Stilinskis were in danger; it was time to do what he was sent here for. He walked over to the Book of Shadows sitting on its pedestal and gently touched the triquetra on its cover. The handyman carefully opened the tome, frowning as he took in the blank pages. This wasn’t right. All the Warren line’s work vanished. A legacy over before it really began.

Luckily, he could fix that. Scott held his hands over the Book and let his heart do the work. Soon, a warm, golden glow emitted from his hands, sending life back into the Book. The aged pages began to fill with the text and illustrations they once held. Scott smiled softly at the revived tome. It was back. The Charmed Ones were back.

X

Unseen by the occupants of the room, the swirling lights in the lantern dissipated. Harris raised the athame and hurled it at the eldest Stilinski. Lydia ducked, pulling her siblings down with her, so the dagger passed harmlessly through the air and embedded itself in the door behind them. The warlock snarled and moved toward the siblings. Allison instinctually raised her hands defensively, freezing him.

“What?” she said, dumbfounded as she looked at her hands.

“We have our powers back?” Stiles asked.

“I hope so,” Lydia muttered as she squinted her eyes at the athame, compelling the weapon to pull itself out of the wall and slam into Harris’ chest. The warlock gasped and staggered out of the freeze. He collapsed on the floor, wheezing, as flames consumed his body, leaving nothing behind. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles exclaimed, wide-eyed.

“I don’t understand,” Allison said, shaking her head. “That spell was permanent. How the hell did we get our powers back?”

“I don’t know, but I need to get back to jail before anyone comes to check on me. It’s already morning,” the eldest witch said, checking the clock on Harris’ desk. The witches quickly scurried out of the office.

Allison probably broke a few traffic laws getting back to the county holding cells, but it was worth it when they snuck in the back and saw Jordan and a guard heading toward Lydia’s cell. She flung out her hands to freeze the two. Stiles grabbed the keys from the guard and rushed to open Lydia’s cell and practically throw her back in before returning them. Lydia quickly got under the covers, while her siblings moved out of sight as the room unfroze.

“Lydia?” the inspector said as the guard opened up her cell. 

The redhead emerged from under the blanket, yawning a bit. “Jordan, please tell me you’ve come to let me go.”

“Not quite,” he replied. “We got a warrant to search Harris’ home and office for the tiara. Apparently he’s not actually Adrian Harris. We think he killed the real Harris and the former owners of the auction house to inherit the business.”

“And you came here to…?” the witch asked.

“Well, Boyd and some other cops are heading out now to for the searches, and I figured you could use a cup of coffee and some breakfast,” Jordan responded with a sweet smile. Allison almost cooed from her hiding place. “Since we never officially booked you, it’s not a big deal for you to hang out at the precinct until we exonerate you. Especially since we’ll probably be letting you go in a few hours.”

Lydia beamed up at the inspector. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Jordan blushed and tried to shrug off the praise. “Yeah, yeah, come on.” He led the witch out of the jail, with the guard trailing after them. 

Allison breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness, it’s almost over.”

“Dude, we successfully completed a jail-break, high five!” Stiles grinned at her. 

The older witch reluctantly high-fived him. It was the little things, she supposed.

X

“So you’re telling me you released Lydia Stilinski and are now pursuing this man claiming to be Adrian Harris as both the thief and the murderer?” Hale asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We found the tiara in Harris’ office, which removed any motive Lydia could have had for killing Jerome Wilkinson. We also found fingerprints on the murder weapon that matched the ones all over Harris’ office. Now, he could have been holding the artifact in an official capacity, but by all reports, the man claiming to be Adrian Harris rarely handled the auction items,” Jordan concluded, fighting the urge to smile smugly at the man. Something about this ADA just rubbed him the wrong way.

“Well, this is the beginning of a solid case. Let me know when you get more evidence in,” Hale instructed, turning to leave.

“Was that a compliment?” Jordan asked his partner.

“Probably the closest to one we’re ever gonna get from that guy,” Boyd responded.

“Here’s hoping that’s the last we see of him,” Jordan groused. 

“He’s not so bad,” Boyd commented thoughtfully. “A hard-ass, sure, but that doesn’t make him a bad guy.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see about that,” Jordan said with a shrug. He couldn’t quite rid himself of the uneasy feeling that his encounter with the lawyer had brought up. Something about Derek Hale wasn’t right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I introduced Derek a lot earlier than I originally planned because I wanted to expand his role in the fic. He gets to have a life outside of Stiles. I'll warn you guys, though, that there won't be Sterek for a while, still. The plot's just not there yet. But at least Derek's officially in the story and will get some scenes.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to drop a comment. They're the best incentives to get me writing!


	8. The Newbie

“What about this one?” Stiles asked, pointing out a charm in the display case of a cute little new-age shop.

“I think it does the job just as well as the rest of them,” Lydia answered dryly. Stiles rolled his eyes. His sister had been dismissive of everything he’d looked at since they had entered the shop. Wicca theory and history fascinated the redhead to no end, but she didn’t care for charms and incense. Stiles didn’t see anything wrong with buying a couple of good luck charms the night before Friday the 13th though, not when he knew just how real magic was.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop asking,” Stiles responded. He turned to the shop owner that had been showing him different charms. “Alright, then, Cassie, I’ll take that one.”

“Good choice,” she said with a nervous smile, hastening to pull out the charm and ring it up. “Would you like to sign up for our e-mail list? We send out coupons and special promotions.”

“Sure,” Stiles returned, brightly, scribbling out his name and an e-mail on the sign-up sheet. Cassie nodded, eying her watch. 

“Something wrong?” Lydia asked, noticing the shop owner’s nerves.

“Oh, it’s just almost midnight. On Friday the 13th,” the woman explained, tapping the cash register uneasily. “No, no, come on, now is not the time,” she muttered to the computer. 

“Everything okay?” Stiles questioned, a bit worried about her now. 

“The computer’s just running slow,” she said, checking her watch again. “I wanted to be closed by now.”

“You really take the Friday the 13th superstitions seriously,” Lydia commented lightly, though Stiles could feel her silent judgment. 

“You should, too,” Cassie responded, looking at the redhead seriously. “Most are harmless, but once every thousand years, there is a universal convergence of negative energy on Friday the 13th. And this is that year.”

“Right,” Lydia said skeptically. The printer spit out their receipt and Cassie sighed in relief.

“Night,” Stiles told her as she ushered the siblings out of the shop. 

“Well, at least you’re not as paranoid as her,” his sister said as they walked to her car.

“Yeah, well I’m carrying _all_ my charms tomorrow, just in case she’s right,” Stiles answered with a shudder. It had only been a few weeks since Harris had almost succeeded in taking their powers and killing them; the last thing they needed was more bad luck.

X

Cassie swiftly locked the door behind the siblings and flipped the open sign to show the shop was now closed. She moved back to the counter quickly, intent on shutting down the register as soon as possible so she could get back home and into a protective circle. 

“Oh dear, I was hoping you’d still be open,” a smooth voice said from behind her. Cassie whirled around to face a handsome stranger with light brown hair, a perfect jawline, and crystal blue eyes.

“Who are you? How did you get in?” she demanded, though the sinking feeling in her chest indicated she might already know the answers to her questions.

“Does it matter?” the man asked mildly. “You’re going to be dead in a few minutes, anyway.”

Cassie grabbed an amulet sitting near the cash register and held it out before her, willing it to protect her.

The man let out a delighted laugh. “Amulets won’t work on me, witch.” He stepped forward and passed a hand in front of her face, looking at it with consideration. “Hmm, your greatest fear is being buried alive in an earthquake? Maybe you’re living in the wrong city, then.” He smirked at her as the room began to shake.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. This couldn’t be happening. Shelves crashed to the ground and glass shattered as the Cassie felt the very earth move under her. “No!” She couldn’t help but scream in terror. She was going to die; she was going to be buried alive in her own shop.

“Yes,” the demon countered, with a pleased chuckle. “You can’t run, can’t even move, can you? You’re paralyzed with fear.” Cassie couldn’t even see the hungry look on his face anymore; she couldn’t…she couldn’t…

X

The demon smirked down at the dead body of the witch. Her long, blonde hair had turned a shocking white and fear was etched into her face. Not bad for his first time, he mused. Only twelve more to go. The demon strolled over to the e-mail sign-up sheet sitting on the store’s counter and waved his hand over it. Over half the names disappeared, leaving only the true witches’ behind. Now this wouldn’t be too hard.

X

“You nervous?” Allison asked, reaching for the coffee.

“For the interview? Not really. I’ve got my good luck charm!” Stiles replied brightly. “Besides, I’m just looking for a part-time job, since I’m starting school soon. It’d be nice to get out of the house. And not mooch off you two.”

“You’re not mooching,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “You know we don’t have a problem with you not working, right? I mean, you’re basically still in school. And with the witch thing, you not having a job is actually pretty helpful.”

Stiles shrugged. He didn’t feel all that helpful. Every time he used the credit card Lydia had given him, he felt guilty. He supported himself for six months in New York and hadn’t paid for anything for himself since he’d come back home. It just felt like he was taking advantage of his sisters, no matter how often they assured him that he wasn’t. 

Lydia sailed into the room and made straight for the coffee. “Need me to drop you off at your interview?”

“No, it’s not til later; I’ll catch a cab.” Stiles waved her off and watched her guzzle down the liquid caffeine. “Are you running late or something?”

“No, I just want to get there early. The new owner of the auction house is coming in today and I want to make a good impression,” the redhead admitted. 

“Well, it’s you, so I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Allison said, smiling at their sister. Stiles agreed; Lydia was not only a fucking genius, but she could charm just about anyone. Literally, now, he supposed.

“Here’s hoping,” Lydia said, checking the time on her phone. “Okay, I think I’m gonna head out.”

“I should go, too, I’ve got a ton of paperwork to go through before we open,” Allison said with a groan. 

“Martin doesn’t deserve you,” Stiles responded, shaking his head. Her manager was such a lazy jackass. 

“Maybe not, but I’ve still gotta do my job,” the brunette answered, shaking her head. “For now, anyway.” The two older siblings got their bags and made for the front door.

“Bye,” Stiles called out, following them to the foyer. “Love you.”

“You too,” Lydia replied absently. Stiles caught Allison’s eye and raised his eyebrows meaningfully; she made a considering face. Lydia looked up from her bag and appraised them. “What?”

“Hmm?” Stiles hummed unconvincingly.

“Those faces. What are you doing with your faces?” The redhead eyed the younger two suspiciously.

“What are you talking about? These are just our faces,” Stiles responded innocently. Lydia’s eyes narrowed, but she was distracted by the ringing of the doorbell. Talk about saved by the bell. Allison opened the door to reveal one Inspector Jordan Parrish standing on their doorstep. Or not. It was starting to feel like the Stilinskis went through this routine every week.

“Jordan? Is something wrong?” Lydia asked, looking at the inspector uneasily. Stiles couldn’t blame her; the last time he paid them a morning visit, he had a warrant to search their house. He could only hope no one was trying to frame them this time.

“Hi, Lydia,” he greeted. “I know it’s kind of early, but I’m actually here to see Stiles. I’ve got a couple of questions for him.” The witch in question felt his eyebrows go up; what now? Allison stepped aside to allow the inspector in.

“Shoot,” Stiles said, bracing himself.

“Last night, a woman named Cassie Sherman was found dead in her bookstore,” Jordan began, grimacing. Stiles gasped but didn’t interrupt. “It was the first of three very similar deaths we believe to be connected and likely the work of a serial killer,” Jordan explained, grimacing slightly. “According to her records, you were her last customer. Did you see anything or anyone out of the ordinary last night?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles exclaimed. “She was fine when we left. A little spooked maybe because it was almost Friday the 13th but otherwise fine. And there was no one else in the area as far as I remember.”

“We?” the inspector asked, frowning.

“I went with him, but we left around midnight, and I’m pretty sure Cassie closed up right after us,” Lydia added. 

“What did the store look like when you left?” Jordan questioned, gazing at them intently.

“Uh, like a normal store?” Stiles replied, confused. “I mean, it was a new-age store, so there was lots of incense and crystals, but it was a cute shop. Why?”

“We got the call because someone was passing by the store and saw it was trashed. When we got there, we found her body half-buried under debris. But it wasn’t the injuries that killed her. The M.E. ruled the cause of death as a heart attack. Her hair was pure white and she looked… _terrified_. They all did. Someone did this to them; it can’t just be a coincidence,” Jordan responded, looking upset. Shit, that sounded more like something up their alley than his. The inspector shook his head slightly and sighed. “Why were you at an occult bookstore anyway?”

“Stiles wanted a good-luck charm for his job interview today,” Lydia explained, shrugging.

Jordan nodded thoughtfully. “The three women killed had ties to the occult, and these look like weird, ritualized killings. So just, be careful, alright?”

“Of course,” Lydia said softly, sharing a heavy look with the inspector. 

“I should go, Boyd’s waiting for me at the precinct,” he said reluctantly.

“We’ll walk you out,” Allison offered, linking her arm with his and motioning toward Lydia. She shot Stiles a significant look as he waved goodbye, and the three left the house to return to their jobs. Well, hopefully, he’d have a job to go to soon, too. But for now, it was Book of Shadows time. 

Stiles was almost to the attic when he heard the doorbell ring. Groaning in frustration, he went back downstairs to answer it. “Scott? I thought you were done with everything at the house.”

“Yeah, actually, I was hoping to talk to Allison?” the handyman responded, looking a bit gloomy.

“You literally just missed her; she went in early,” the witch informed his friend. Scott looked almost relieved to hear that. “You okay?”

“Yeah…no…I just, ugh.” 

“Eloquent,” the brunet commented.

“Do you have a minute to talk? I think I need some advice. But it’s kind of awkward,” Scott requested, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure,” Stiles responded, eyes narrowing slightly. “As long as it’s not about sex.”

Scott’s eyes widened. “No! No, it’s definitely not that.”

Stiles smirked. “Well, then, I’ve got to do something real quick upstairs, but I’ll try to be fast.”

“Okay,” his friend said, looking relieved. Stiles shot him a curious look before jogging up the stairs. He had never seen the man look so out of sorts. As far as he knew, things were going great with him and Allison; he wondered what Scott could possibly need advice for.

Stiles jogged up the stairs, hoping to figure out who this latest demon was and talk to Scott before he had to leave for his interview. He flipped through the pages of the Book, keeping an eye out for any mentions of white hair, heart attacks, or Friday the 13th. It didn’t take long for him to find an entry describing such a demon. Unlike most pages in the Book, this one lacked an illustration of the demon and was written in a heartbreakingly familiar handwriting. Mom, Stiles thought numbly, tracing the writing gently. He’d memorized her script from the backs of old family pictures and some of the recipes Grams used to pull out. The sight of it made him ache, even if he had never really known her.

The witch closed his eyes and took a deep breath to clear his mind; he had to focus on the demon. He scanned the page with a frown. Barbas, the Demon of Fear, came out from the Underworld every one thousand years on Friday the 13th. He had to kill thirteen witches before midnight or he would be banished to the Underworld for another thousand years. Apparently, he fed on witches’ fears and turned them against them. Great. Fucking fantastic. Stiles sighed and shut the Book. He had to warn his sisters. But first, Scott.

Stiles headed back downstairs to the living room, intent on getting Scott through whatever his crisis was as soon as possible. “Hey, so—holy shit!” Scott was levitating. Scott was fucking _levitating_. 

“Stiles!” The handyman’s jaw dropped as he fell to the floor with a thud. “Uh, your lightbulb was out; I was just changing it. By jumping? Yeah, I can jump pretty high!”

“Oh my god,” the witch said, backing up and reaching blindly for some kind of weapon. “What are you?”

“Stiles, wait, just wait,” Scott pleaded, stepping forward. Stiles grasped the lamp on the table near the entryway and brandished it at his friend. Former friend? Potential demon for sure. 

“What _are_ you?” he repeated, breathing heavily. He couldn’t believe he had fallen for this. He had trusted him. God, Allison was going to be crushed when she found out. 

“I’m not a demon,” Scott hastened to assure him. “I’m a whitelighter! It’s like a guardian angel for witches. Not that you were ever supposed to find out.”

“Seriously? How stupid do you think I am?” Stiles scoffed, waving the lamp threateningly.

“I can prove it!” Scott responded earnestly. “You remember when you guys gave up your powers? I’m the one that got them back for you. I healed your Book of Shadows and it restored your powers to you. I did it to save you. You’re my charges; I’m here to protect you.”

Stiles lowered the lamp slightly, considering the man before him. “You did that? How? Why?”

“That’s one of my powers. To heal. It’s how I take care of my charges,” Scott explained. “There are these, uh, mystical beings? They’re called the Elders and they’re kind of the leaders of good magic. They’re my bosses; they send whitelighters out to help guide and protect witches. They told me about the warlock threatening you guys and the spell you cast to give up your powers so that I could help you.” Stiles narrowed his eyes. Scott hurried to add, “Besides, I’ve been alone with you and Allison more than once since we’ve met and never hurt either of you!”

Stiles thought back to Scott’s first day at the Manor and how he had helped him through his panic attack. That would have been the perfect opportunity for a demon or warlock to kill him, but Scott had kept him from passing out instead. The witch sighed and put the lamp back on the table. “Fine, okay. Whitelighter, huh? That’s a new one. I don’t get why you couldn’t tell us.”

Scott sighed in relief and sat down. “We generally don’t reveal ourselves to our charges until they need our direct help or have been witches for a few years. The Elders don’t want new witches depending on whitelighters too much; you’re supposed to learn and grow independently. We’re just meant to guide and protect you from afar. Although, older witches that often deal with demons get to know their whitelighters and use us as sources of magical knowledge.”

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, well, we could’ve used some of that knowledge. Like this dude Barbas that’s killing witches, any idea how to get rid of him? The Book just said we have to let go of our fears. Real helpful.”

“The Demon of Fear,” Scott repeated thoughtfully. “Your Book is right; that’s all you can do to banish him back to the Underworld.”

“Great,” Stiles muttered. “I’ll just call up a therapist real quick and get right on that.”

“If it was easy to do, Barbas wouldn’t be such a powerful demon,” Scott pointed out. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Right, thanks, you’ve been real helpful. You can go now.”

Scott shot him a hurt look. “Stiles…”

“What?” the witch bit out. “This was all just an act, right? We’re not really friends. You just wanted to get close to us to protect us. Which is all fine and dandy, but you didn’t have to get Ally involved.” Stiles shook his head. “Whatever, I’ve got a demon to deal with. You should just go.”

“It wasn’t an act, Stiles,” the whitelighter said softly, flashing him his earnest eyes. “You are my friend, okay? I care about you. All of you.” Stiles looked down. He wasn’t one for emotional talks, but maybe that felt good to hear. “More than I should, to be honest. I wasn’t supposed to date Allison. I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to fall for her. But I did…and now I have to go. I was sent here to help you deal with what your grandfather did to you, but you’re all doing better now. The Elders want me to move on.”

“You’re leaving,” Stiles said numbly. “Permanently?”

“I don’t know if it’s forever, but I can’t promise I’ll be back,” Scott admitted. “That’s what I came here to talk to you about. I don’t know how to tell Allison. I can’t tell her that I’m a whitelighter; it’s bad enough that you found out. But I don’t want her to think that me leaving has anything to do with my feelings for her.”

“You need advice on how to break up with my sister?” Stiles’ eyebrows shot up, while Scott looked sheepish. 

“I just don’t want to hurt her,” the whitelighter mumbled.

“Yeah, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you started dating her,” Stiles said without any heat, and Scott winced. He got it, in a way. Allison was pretty fantastic, after all. But this was a shitty situation for all involved. The witch sighed and rubbed his face. “You’ve just gotta do it. I mean, there’s no real way to make this not hurt. Just let her know that you have to go and that it’s nothing she did.” Not that it would really help. Allison really liked Scott, maybe even loved him. Scott leaving was going to crush her, regardless of the reason.

“This sucks,” Scott said, looking down at his hands. “I don’t want to leave. I’ve been a whitelighter for fifty years; I should be used to this. But…I don’t want to leave.”

“Do you really have to? I mean, we could definitely use your help; it still feels like we’re playing catch-up here,” Stiles responded, trying not to get his hopes up. Allison wasn’t the only Stilinski that really liked Scott.

The whitelighter smiled sadly at him. “Believe me, I’ve tried talking to the Elders. They’ve decided it’s time for me to move on. And they’re right. You guys don’t need me; you’ll be fine on your own. I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“You and me, both,” Stiles said, throat tightening a bit. He chided himself for getting attached; he should have known better. “I, uh, have to get going. I have a job interview. But, if this is the last time I see you, bye.” He hovered awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. He hated goodbyes. Scott stood and grasped him in a firm hug. The witch closed his eyes and squeezed his friend. He was going to miss him.

X

“Okay, I just got to the office, so I have to go. You’ll fill Allison in right?” Stiles confirmed as he paid his cab driver.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. You just stay in populated areas,” Lydia instructed over the phone.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Okay, will do. You better not go off on your own like super witch, though!” Barbas presumably couldn’t attack them if they were around people, but Lydia tended to do her own thing, consequences be damned.

“Yeah, yeah. Gotta go, good luck with your interview,” his sister responded.

“Thanks. Love you.” Stiles waited patiently. Maybe this time she’d say it back?

“You too, bye.” And she hung up. That woman had a serious problem with the L word, Stiles thought, shaking his head and pocketing his phone. Stiles couldn’t remember Lydia ever saying she loved someone. He’d recently asked Allison about it and she hadn’t heard their sister say it either. It was odd, to say the least. 

The witch entered the small office, ready to charm his interviewer. An older blonde woman greeted him with a big smile. “You must be Stiles! I’m Pam.” 

“Hi,” the brunet responded, a bit taken aback by her enthusiasm. Right, Pam Barkley, the owner of the small business. Showtime. “It’s great to meet you.”

“You too! I must say, I was so glad when I saw you put a preferred name down on your application. I have no idea how to say your real name; where are you from?” the blonde woman asked.

“Oh, my family’s from here, but my great-grandparents were Polish. I was named after my grandfather,” Stiles explained. 

“That’s lovely,” the woman replied with a smile. “Now, please take a seat. I’d love to get to know you better.” And so the interview commenced. It was surprisingly light-hearted and conversational, but Stiles was starting to get that that was just who this woman was. 

“Well, I’ve gotta say that I think you’re perfect for the job, Stiles!” Pam enthused at the end of the interview.

The brunet blinked in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yeah, can you start now?” the blonde asked perkily.

“Wait, as in right now?” 

“I know it’s really short-notice, but the girl that worked here before you up and quit on me with absolutely no notice. I’m going out of town for the day, and I really need someone here to answer the phones,” Pam explained, looking a little apologetic.

“Oh, sure, that’s fine,” Stiles said, now getting why this woman was so eager.

“Great!” There was a light tap on the office door. Stiles turned to see a tall blond in the doorway. Pam smiled and made a shooing gesture at the man, who rolled his eyes good-naturedly and moved out of earshot. “Okay, that’s my boyfriend. We’re headed down to Carmel for the day. Call me if you need anything, but your job for the today is basically to just take messages for me.” She rummaged around her desk. “Ah, okay, here’s a key. Lock up at the end of the day. Any questions?”

“Uh, no, I think I’ve got it,” Stiles said. How hard could taking messages be?

“Great,” Pam responded with a wide smile. “Uh, just one more thing. If my husband calls, tell him I’m out with a client, okay?”

Stiles froze. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? “Uh, sure.” There was always a catch.

“Thanks, Stiles!” the blonde said, before heading out with her lover. Amazing. This was just amazing.

X

“Ugh, okay, done,” Allison announced, glaring at the pile of health code standards forms she had just filled out. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” She turned to her boyfriend expectantly.

“Uh, it can wait,” Scott said hesitantly. Allison frowned; that didn’t sound good. “Have you talked to Martin about this? He can’t keep pushing all the paperwork on you; he’s the manager.”

“Yeah, I know and I’ve tried,” the witch responded, rolling her eyes at the thought of her weasel of a boss. “He keeps saying he’s got other stuff to work on. From home, I’ve noticed.” Allison sighed and shook her head. “Maybe Lydia’s right. Maybe I should just look for a new job.”

“It’s something to consider,” Scott said, giving her a thoughtful look. “But what’s bothering you so much about that? Every time you’ve mentioned looking for another job, you just don’t seem happy about it.”

“I don’t know…I guess, it just feels like I’m stuck in some stupid cycle. I got a job at the bank to get good health insurance for Grams and hated it. I got a job that was meant to be the beginning of my cooking career and I hate it. I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to be disappointed again,” Allison admitted reluctantly. “I know it sounds dumb because it’s just a risk that everyone takes, but I don’t want to go through this again somewhere else.”

“Hey, it’s not dumb,” Scott responded gently, squeezing her hand over the table they shared. “You’ve had some bad work experiences and don’t want a repeat of them. And you may not be happy here, but at least you know where you stand. It makes sense that you’d be wary of trying something new again.”

Allison thought it over. There was a certain amount of security in her job. She was good at it and easily capable of handling the responsibilities, even if she didn’t like them. She wasn’t getting fired any time soon. It was tempting to stay, to say the least. “I guess.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Scott said confidently. “Any restaurant would be lucky to have you.”

“You’re my boyfriend; you have to say that.”

Scott laughed. “I’ve eaten your food. Trust me, you’ll be fine.” He looked down, and Allison frowned at the way his expression seemed to fall. Something was up. Before she could ask him, a certain redhead bustled up to their table.

“Hey, sorry to break this up, but I really need to talk to Allison for a minute,” Lydia interjected. She shot Scott an apologetic smile, before giving Allison a significant look. Right. Witchy business.

“Uh, no problem,” Scott responded, getting up. “I’ve gotta head out anyway. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Allison replied, a bit confused. She supposed whatever he wanted to talk about just got postponed. The handyman nodded and quickly left the restaurant; she frowned after him. “He’s acting weird.”

“Okay, and I’ll be happy to puzzle that out with you later, but for now we have a problem of the demonic variety,” Lydia said, grimacing slightly. Allison focused on her sister; looks like those murders really were their kind of thing. “So Stiles found this demon called Barbas in the Book. He’s going to try to kill thirteen witches by midnight or he’ll be banished back to the Underworld for a thousand years.”

“Thirteen? That’s insane,” Allison breathed out, horrified.

“Right, well this guy is pretty evil. He’s the Demon of Fear; he can turn our fears against us, use them to kill us,” Lydia explained. “He shouldn’t be able to attack us around other people, so if you stay here, you should be fine.”

“Okay, but I can’t just hide from him. We’ve got to vanquish him, right?” If ten more witches died because Allison tried to save her own skin, she’d never forgive herself.

“We can’t vanquish him,” her sister responded. “According to the Book, the only way to get rid of him is to conquer our fears. Unless you’ve figured out a way to do that, you’re better off staying out of his way. If we can keep him from killing more witches, then we don’t need to face him.”

“So how do we keep him from killing anyone else?” Allison asked. “I mean, I’ll call Liam to warn him, but we don’t know any other witches.”

“Well, Stiles signed up for e-mails from her store. With my e-mail,” Lydia explained, rolling her eyes slightly. “I guess they were on some kind of automated schedule because I got one this morning for a Wiccan gathering, and there’s contact information for someone named Zoe. I’m hoping she’s a witch. And if she’s active in the Wiccan community, then maybe she can help me find and warn other witches.”

“That could work,” the brunette said, thinking it over. “But is it safe for you to go alone? Maybe I should come with you.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll stay in public places as much as possible, okay?” Lydia assured her. “You just stay away from archery equipment.”

Allison shuddered. She’d been an avid archer growing up, but after getting shot in the arm by a stray arrow at a shooting competition when she was fourteen she started having nightmares about being killed with her own arrows and had to quit. It was a weird fear to have, she knew, but being hurt by something she loved had left her shaken. “Will do. And you stay away from water.”

Lydia blinked. “I’m not scared of water.”

Allison bit her lip. “No, you’re afraid of drowning.” Lydia’s jaw tightened. “It’s okay, you know. We always got why you didn’t want to go swimming after what happened. And you don’t have to talk about it. Just stay away from water.” The redhead nodded jerkily and stood to go. “Love you.”

“You too,” Lydia responded as she left. The brunette sighed. Stiles was right; she _was_ weird about the love thing. Though that might have been more about reminding her of their mother’s drowning. Her death had affected Lydia more than anyone else, for good reason.

X

Lydia sighed as she knocked on the apartment door again. “Zoe?” she called out, hoping for an answer this time. She knew the woman was in there; she could hear her voice. Or maybe that was the TV? Regardless, someone was probably home and ignoring her. 

Suddenly, a woman’s scream pierced the air. Lydia’s blood ran cold, and she telekinetically unlocked the door and shoved it open. No. Before her lay a dark-skinned woman with pure white hair, her pretty face twisted in terror. The witch froze. She was supposed to save her. She was right outside when she died; she _heard_ her die. This wasn’t…this couldn’t…it wasn’t fucking _fair_. She was there. She was right there and she let her die.

The redhead turned and staggered out of the apartment. She had to call the cops. But they couldn’t find her here. She left the building in a daze, barely remembering her anonymous call to the police. Lydia probably shouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel, but she managed to drive herself back to Quake, despite the numbness she felt. Allison only had to take one look at her to rush her to the back office.

“What happened? Lydia, what’s wrong?” the brunette asked frantically.

“She’s dead. Zoe’s dead. I was right outside her door and he was in there _murdering_ her,” Lydia bit out, staring at her shaky hands.

Allison’s eyes widened. “Oh no, Lydia, I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault though; you couldn’t have known,” she said soothingly, rubbing her arm. Lydia shuddered, shaking her head. It was her fault. If she had just opened the door as soon as she got there, then she might have been able to save Zoe. She could’ve at least tried. “Lydia—”

“Another witch is dead and it’s barely lunchtime,” the redhead interrupted. “He has the rest of the day to kill nine more, and we don’t know any other witches. I don’t know how we’re going to warn them.”

Allison sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe you can talk to Jordan? See who Cassie’s other customers were? I can call Stiles; maybe he can find some kind of website or forum that Wiccans visit and send them a message. He got the job by the way; he’s starting today.”

“Yeah, okay, sounds good,” Lydia agreed, thinking it over. They had a plan. Not a great one, necessarily, but as long as there was a plan, Lydia had something to focus on. A way to help people. She couldn’t let anyone else die like Zoe had. The fear on her face…no one deserved that. A sudden thought struck her. “What about Liam? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he and Mason are sticking together and staying at school as long as possible. He’s got a lacrosse game tonight, so he’s gonna hang with the team all day,” Allison assured her. Thank goodness there was at least one person they could save. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive? Maybe you should have lunch first.” 

“I’m fine,” Lydia insisted. “I should get going. Barbas isn’t slowing down any time soon.” She got up and led her reluctant sister out of the office. Allison worried too much; it was going to give her premature wrinkles. 

The moment the witches entered the main area of the restaurant, a customer pushed back his chair, pushing a waitress off course and sending her flying into Lydia. Naturally, the two plates of spaghetti on her tray ended up all over the redhead. 

“Oh my gosh; I’m so sorry!” the waitress babbled, looking between her and Allison frantically.

“It’s okay, Sam, just go get something to clean this up,” Allison said quickly, gesturing at the broken plates on the floor. The waitress briskly moved away to grab a broom. Allison hustled over to the bar to grab napkins and started dabbing at Lydia’s hair. 

“Ugh, just leave it. I’ll stop by the house for a shower and check the Book again. Maybe a fresh set of eyes will help,” Lydia grumbled. Was that a fucking meatball in her shirt? It was. Great. Nice to know she had to battle Friday the 13th luck along with a ridiculously powerful demon.

X

Lydia deftly shed her clothes and stepped into the shower. The warm water felt nice on her tense muscles, but with nine more witches’ lives on the line, she moved quickly. She was just doing her final rinse when a wave of discomfort washed over her; it felt like she was being watched. Lydia scanned the bathroom and let out a small scream when she saw a stranger standing in her bathroom, watching her with a smirk. 

“Barbas,” she breathed out, thankful for the steam clouding the shower stall and hiding her body for the most part. She squinted her eyes at him, but nothing happened.

“Seems like you’ve heard of my predecessor. Apparently no one got the memo that I’ve taken over. And you might as well stop trying to use those powers of yours; they don’t work on me. You’ll just strain your eyes,” the man said, rolling his eyes. “My name’s Peter and you are just too pretty to be a witch. I almost wish I didn’t have to kill you. Ah well.” He passed a hand through the air and gazed at her intently, before a wicked smile grew on his face. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve made this too easy for me. You’re afraid of drowning? Well, have fun with this.” 

Something was wrong, Lydia realized. The water level of the shower was rising too fast; it wasn’t being drained. She quickly shut off the showerhead as the water rose to her knees, but it didn’t help.

“No,” she whispered. “No, don’t!” Peter continued to smile at her as the water hit her chest. Then her neck. Lydia couldn’t help the shriek of terror she let out when it started going over her head. Then she couldn’t breathe. The witch struggled to float, to stay above the water, but it felt like she couldn’t swim. She could barely move. She struggled uselessly, but couldn’t reach the surface of the water. She was going to die here. In her house. In her shower. She was going to drown, just like her mother. 

X

“How do we always end up here?” Boyd asked as Jordan grit his teeth and rang the Stilinskis’ doorbell. 

“Hell if I know,” Jordan retorted, though he had to wonder the same thing. What the hell was Lydia caught up in now? He frowned and rang the bell again. Her being home on a Friday afternoon was strange, but her car was in the driveway and he had called the office to check if she was there; apparently, she had gone home sick in the morning. “Maybe she’s not home.”

Boyd cocked his head. “Someone’s definitely here.” Before Jordan could ask how he knew, his partner reached out to test the door, and it was unlocked. Jordan frowned; that wasn’t like Lydia or Allison. Maybe Stiles was home? That thought was shoved aside when a woman’s scream came from inside the house. Jordan’s heart dropped, and the two inspectors wasted no time drawing their guns and rushing into the house.

“It came from upstairs,” Boyd said tersely, leading the way. For some reason, he headed straight for the upstairs bathroom. Jordan covered him as he quickly opened the door, and…oh, shit. The bathroom was completely empty, save for Lydia standing in the shower, gasping at them.

“Um…” was all he could manage.

“We heard a scream,” Boyd explained, quickly averting his eyes. “We’ll just wait downstairs.” His partner put down his gun and dragged Jordan out of the bathroom. The inspector let his friend maneuver him down the stairs, his heartrate finally beginning to calm as his mind took off. Something had happened. Lydia hadn’t just looked shocked to find them barging into her bathroom; she looked terrified. She looked like the six dead women he had seen today. 

X

Boyd led his partner downstairs, keeping his ears strained for another heartbeat. Nothing. There were just three in the house. He had heard the shower running when they arrived at the Manor, but nothing out of the ordinary. But something must have happened. He could smell Lydia’s fear in the bathroom; it was just as strong as the fear he had smelled at the crime scenes he had worked today. Whatever killed those women had attacked Jordan’s ex, too. And seeing as he was pretty damn sure that all six of those women were witches, it looked like Lydia was one, too. And if Lydia was a witch, her siblings had to have powers, as well. 

Boyd had suspected the Stilinskis might be involved with the supernatural world, but to be honest, he was leaning more toward hunters than witches. He couldn’t help but be relieved that he was wrong; Erica had been talking about staking out their house with that look in her eyes again. 

He wondered for a moment if this was a sign that it was time to clue Jordan in. Erica had been pushing for it for a couple of months now. They left their pack in Portland for his promotion in San Francisco, and while they kept in touch with their alpha, it just wasn’t the same. Jordan had been in their lives long enough to feel like pack, but he had no idea what they were. What Lydia apparently was. Maybe it was time to change that.

The chemo-signals coming off his partner spelled anxiety. Boyd knew he was smart enough to realize something was going on, but he wasn’t working with all the information Boyd had. It wasn’t really fair. “Hey, she’s okay.”

“Yeah, maybe now she is. But she wasn’t,” Jordan responded. No, she wasn’t. Boyd sighed, and the two waited in silence for Lydia to meet them in the living room in a bathrobe and with her hair wrapped in a towel.

“Care to let me know why you two stormed into my bathroom with guns?” she asked sternly, though it lacked her usual fire. Her heartrate was still too high for her to be comfortable.

“We heard you scream,” Jordan answered. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Lydia only hesitated for a moment. “I got shampoo in my eyes.” Lie. “Sorry for scaring you.”

“Shampoo,” Jordan echoed. “Lydia, that wasn’t a scream of pain. It was fear. You were scared.”

“I got shampoo in my eyes. It really hurt,” Lydia responded, crossing her arms defensively. 

Time to give the poor woman a break. “We were actually here to ask you a few questions. Did you know a Zoe Kramer?”

The redhead turned to him, looking almost relieved. “Uh, no, not personally, anyway.”

“Care to explain why you were the last person to sign her apartment building’s visitor log before she died?” Boyd asked.

“I knew she was a friend of Cassie’s. I was just going to check on her after what happened. When I got there, she was already dead. I called 9-1-1 and I left,” Lydia admitted. Well, that was mostly true. Boyd supposed she couldn’t really say she was going to meet a fellow witch, presumably to talk about whatever was killing witches in San Francisco.

“Why did you leave an anonymous tip? Why didn’t you just stay and tell us this earlier?” Jordan pushed, narrowing his eyes. “You have to admit that this looks pretty suspicious.”

“I was hoping to avoid being suspected of another murder I didn’t commit,” Lydia retorted. “I know exactly how bad this looks, Jordan. I wanted to stay out of it this time.”

“Did you see or hear anything suspicious when you arrived at the apartment?” Boyd questioned, trying to steer the conversation away from potential drama.

“No, nothing,” Lydia lied. “The door was unlocked when I got there. I walked in, saw her body, and left.”

“Okay, that’s all we need to know. We’ll let you know if we have any more questions for you later,” the inspector said, hoping to get out of this situation as soon as possible.

“Lydia…” Jordan trailed off, searching her gaze. He must have realized he wasn’t going to get anything else out of her because he sighed. “Just be careful.” The redhead nodded and showed the inspectors out of the house. Boyd just hoped she was the kind of witch that could take down whatever monster was killing all these women. Something in her eyes said that she was.

X

Lydia unfurled the towel from her head and got to work brushing her long hair. Her hand abruptly halted its motion when she looked up at the mirror. On the left side of her hair, there was now a thick streak of white mixing in with the red. Her grip on the hairbrush tightened and it resumed motion. He had gotten close. Too close. But she wouldn’t let him win.

The witch got dressed and headed up to the attic. Stiles hadn’t mentioned anything about a Peter, but it couldn’t hurt to check the Book now that she had some new information. It didn’t take long to find the entry on Barbas, though her vision blurred as soon as she started reading it. Lydia blinked back the tears and tried not to think about the fact that this was her mother’s handwriting. That her mom probably wrote this for them because she knew that Barbas—or Peter, as it were—would return in their lifetime. 

Pushing back her grief, the redhead scanned the entry for any sign of Peter’s name. If the demon had a different name, then maybe there was a different way to deal with him. A way to vanquish him. Not finding anything in Barbas’ entry, Lydia spent an hour going through the Book for anything on the demon that attacked her but found nothing. The only thing matching his M.O. was Barbas. Great, she was just dealing with a new version of him, then. With no way to vanquish him.

Lydia looked at the time and groaned; it was already almost five, how many witches had Peter killed by now? She couldn’t believe she had forgotten to ask Jordan for the names of Cassie’s customers when he had come by. Peter must have shaken her up more than she thought. She supposed it wasn’t too late to try to catch Jordan at the precinct. Hopefully, he would be in the mood to help. The witch headed to her room to grab her purse and coat. A jazzy tone filled the air as Lydia’s phone rang. 

“Stiles?” she answered.

X

So far so good. Stiles could totally handle this job. A few people had called for Pam, but taking messages was a breeze. And her husband never called, thank goodness. A bell chimed as someone opened the office door.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Stiles asked, greeting the man with a friendly smile.

“Hi there, I’m looking for Pam. She hasn’t been picking up her phone, which usually happens when she’s swamped with work; is she in her office?” the man responded. 

Stiles froze and tried to subtly check out his left hand. “Are you her husband?”

“Oh, yeah, I probably should have introduced myself,” the man said sheepishly. “I’m Jack Barkley.”

“Stiles,” the witch introduced himself uneasily. 

“Nice to meet you,” the man responded with a smile. “So, is Pam in?”

“Um…well, no, she’s not in right now,” Stiles said carefully. Shit, this was so dicey. He didn’t know if he could lie to this guy about what his wife was doing right now.

“Oh, where is she?” Jack asked, looking disappointed.

“That’s a good question,” Stiles replied, nervously. “She’s…she’s…um, she is out with…okay, yeah, I can’t do this. Tell Pam I’m really sorry about this. I’ll leave all the messages for her on her desk and lock up, don’t worry.”

Jack sighed, hurt aging his face a few years. “She’s out with another guy, isn’t she?”

“What? You know?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve suspected for a long time,” Jack answered wearily. “I just didn’t want to believe it. Thanks for not lying to me, at least. I’ve been lied to a lot, lately.” Stiles winced. “But don’t quit on my behalf. Pam’s a great boss.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think this is the right place for me,” Stiles said. The other man nodded understandingly and trudged out. Stiles grimaced at his back. That was horrible. As cushy as this job might be, Stiles didn’t think he could stand to work for someone who so casually hurt the person she promised to love forever like that. And God, he never wanted to be put in this situation again. 

He started gathering up this things to leave when the desk phone rang. Stiles supposed he should finish out the day at least. “Barkley Realty, how can I help you?

“Hi, my name is Agnes Mulligan, and I was supposed to meet with Pam to be shown a house, but it’s been ten minutes and she’s still not here,” answered an older woman’s voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry, there must have been a scheduling error. Ms. Barkley is out of town for the day, but I’m sure she’d be happy to re-schedule with you as soon as possible.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work for me,” the woman responded. “I flew in from L.A. for work and I’m returning in the morning. I can only see this house today. Please, I came all this way.”

Stiles mulled it over. Pam had kinda screwed this poor woman over. “I can show you the house, I suppose. What’s the address?” He wrote down the address the woman dictated. “Okay, thank you, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” After hanging up, he headed to Pam’s office and found the key to the house in question. He wasn’t a realtor, but he could at least let this woman take a look at the house. He’d return the office and house keys to Pam on Monday when he officially quit.

Stiles took a cab to the house, which thankfully wasn’t far. There was nobody waiting for him on the front lawn, though. “Mrs. Mulligan?” he called out, looking around. “I’m from Barkley Realty, here to show you the house.”

“I’m in the back, dear,” a cheerful voice responded. The gate leading to the backyard was open, weird. Stiles frowned but followed the voice. “It’s so lovely back here!” Stiles entered the backyard and cautiously approached the large pool, looking around for Mrs. Mulligan. “Just look at this pool; it’s absolutely perfect.” Stiles whirled around as halfway through the sentence, the older woman’s voice shifted into a decidedly male tone. 

An attractive man stood behind him, smirking. He passed a hand through the air, before grinning at him. “Your greatest fear is losing a sibling? I guess I’ll get to kill two witches with one stone tonight.” The demon—it must have been Barbas—waved a hand and suddenly, Stiles was sitting on a bench facing the pool. His hands and feet were tied, while duct tape covered his mouth. The witch’s eyes widened as the man lightly trailed his hands across his body, before apparently finding what he was looking for.

Barbas pulled out Stiles’ phone and tapped at the screen to make a call. 

“Stiles?” Stiles could faintly hear Lydia on the other end of the phone. No. He tried shouting a warning, but every noise he made was severely muffled by the tape.

“Lydia? Could you come pick me up? I was showing a house to someone and got stuck here. I’m not far from the Manor.” Stiles fumed at hearing this demon use his voice. He tried screaming, but Lydia couldn’t possibly hear him. He missed her response, but she must have agreed because the demon thanked her, promised to text the address, and hung up.

“You two are so easy,” Barbas gloated. He plopped himself down on the bench and turned Stiles’ face to him. “And so lovely. You have another sister, right? I saw pictures in your house. I guess the looks run in the family. In another life, perhaps…” He looked pensive for a moment, then smiled at the witch and waved a hand. The duct tape on Stiles’ mouth disappeared.

“You sick son of a bitch, I’m going to fucking vanquish you,” the witch hissed out as soon as he could talk. 

Barbas laughed. “You witches are all the same. So angry and self-righteous all the time. You don’t even know who I am, do you?”

“Barbas, Demon of Fear,” Stiles bit out, glaring at him.

“Incorrect, dear,” the man said mildly. “My name is Peter. I’m a little newer to this than Barbas, but I’ve already got ten witches down, so I’d say I’m doing well. Once I kill you and your sisters, I’ll be completely free.” He palmed Stiles’ faces and ran a thumb across his lips; the witch shuddered. “Nothing personal, of course.” 

Stiles peered up at Peter through his lashes and let his mouth open a bit. The demon smirked slightly and pushed his thumb into his mouth. Fucking pervert. Stiles swiftly bit down on the digit, tasting blood as Peter swore and pulled his hand back. The demon backhanded him, the force almost sending him off the bench. “You little brat.” He waved a hand and the duct tape was back on Stiles’ mouth. 

Peter examined his bleeding thumb with a look of distaste. “Oh you’ll pay for that soon enough. But your sister will first.”

X

“Stiles?” Lydia called out, stepping out of her car and looking for her brother.

“I’m in the back; you’ve gotta check this out!” he called back. She frowned and moved toward the backyard; they didn’t have time for this with Peter on the loose. The witch looked around the large backyard and froze for a moment when she saw Stiles tied up on a bench with Peter standing right behind him, hands on his shoulders.

“Oh I love what you’ve done with your hair,” Peter said, smiling pleasantly. 

“Get away from him,” she snarled, fists clenching.

“Okay,” he replied easily, stalking toward her. Remembering her training, she threw out a punch, but he caught her arm and used her momentum to pull her close to him. “Say goodbye to your brother, Lydia.” She barely heard Stiles’ muffled shout as the demon shoved her backward and she fell into the pool.

Lydia knew how to swim; she’d learned how to before her mom died. But after twenty years of staying away from water, it was like her body had forgotten how. She struggled weakly under the water, but she could barely move. The panic, the fear was too strong. She was so scared. She couldn’t breathe; she was going to die. The witch sank further into the pool, bent knees grazing the bottom. Suddenly the water around her grew lighter as something warm and glowing appeared before her. Wait, not something, someone.

The woman before her smiled at her and stretched out her hand. Lydia could hear a familiar voice in her head telling her to let go of her fear and save herself, to save her brother. The witch grasped the hand and felt something pull her to the surface. Her mom. Her mom had saved her.

X

Stiles cried out as Peter shoved his sister into the pool. He saw her sinking to the bottom. She was going to die. She was _dying_. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped against the tape until it was unceremoniously ripped off by Peter.

“Your sister’s dying, Stiles. I want to hear you die, too,” the demon sneered. But Stiles wasn’t really paying attention. He couldn’t help but sob as he continued to pant, trying to get oxygen to his brain. She was dying, she was dying, she was dying, was all that was running through his brain. It was too much. He couldn’t breathe, his heart was beating too fast for him to even think. She was dying. He felt his heart stutter as he gasped for breath. She was dying.

Lydia’s head popped above the surface of the pool and she sucked in the air greedily. Stiles felt his eyes bug out. She wasn’t drowning. She was breathing. She was alive. His heartbeat slowed slightly, but he couldn’t catch his breath. He breathed as best he could as he watched her pull herself out of the pool.

“No, that’s not possible. You should be paralyzed with fear. You can’t swim; you can’t even move,” Peter shouted, handsome face twisting angrily. 

“Go to hell,” Lydia said coldly, watching with satisfaction on her face as the demon appeared to do just that. The earth around him opened up and he roared as he was sucked in, the ground reforming after him. Stiles would have smiled and maybe fist pumped if he wasn’t in the middle of a panic attack. Lydia seemed to realize this because she rushed over to him. “Breathe, Stiles, breathe. Count with me. One, two, three. One, two, three.” He followed along with her, trying to keep count and steady his breathing. It took some time, but he managed to avoid losing consciousness. Small victories.

“How did you know to do that?” he asked breathlessly.

“I looked up everything I could about panic attacks after you told me about yours,” his sister admitted, untying the ropes around his hands and feet.

“The white in your hair, it’s gone,” Stiles noticed.

“So is yours,” she responded grabbing his shaking hand and looking him over.

“Mine?” 

“When I got out of the water, your hair…it was almost completely white,” she answered quietly.

“You were drowning. You were dying. And I couldn’t do anything,” he whispered. “I was all tied up and helpless, like with Gerard.”

Lydia gently brushed away the tears that had fallen. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere. We’re both okay.” She gripped him in a tight hug. “I love you.” He blinked; did she just say what he think she did?

Deciding not to touch on that issue for now, he went with a safer question. “How are you alive? What happened?”

“I wasn’t afraid anymore,” Lydia said softly, a look of quiet awe crossing over her face. “I saw Mom. Her spirit, maybe? She took my hand and helped me get to the surface, and I just…wasn’t afraid anymore.”

“Mom?” he croaked out in amazement. Lydia got to see their mom. It may have happened while almost getting killed by a demon, but he thought that was the most precious gift magic could have given her. And judging by Lydia’s smile, she felt the same.

X

“What? Are you two okay? Do you need me to come home?” Allison asked frantically.

“We’re fine. I’m just gonna take a hot shower before I catch pneumonia,” Lydia responded over the phone. “You just finish your shift and you can get the whole story when you come home.”

“Fine, fine,” the brunette sighed, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. Her siblings had almost died today and she was supposed to just go back to work. No big deal.

“Bring home dinner?” the redhead requested.

“Of course. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you never ate today,” Allison answered sternly. 

“Stop worrying about me,” Lydia said, and Allison could practically hear the eye roll. “I’ll let you get back to work, then. Love you.”

What. “Love you, too,” she returned after a brief pause. She looked at her phone suspiciously as she hung up. Maybe she had missed more than the vanquish, or banishment, she supposed. Allison set the phone down and returned to the inventory list she was reviewing in the back office at Quake.

“Who said you could use my office?” came a haughty voice from the doorway.

Allison looked up in surprise; she hadn’t seen Martin in weeks. “I’m working on the inventory and you weren’t here.”

“Well, I’m here now, and I need my office back, so off you go,” the manager said, making a little shooing gesture.

The witch ground her teeth, but stood up and gathered her work. Any other day she’d probably tell him exactly where to shove it, but she wasn’t going to push her luck any more on this particular Friday the 13th. She headed for the bar and set up a space to work. She was only a few minutes into it when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Uh, hey, you busy?” Scott asked, looking nervous.

Allison was tempted to ask him to wait until she got off work in an hour, but he’d been acting weird this morning and was apparently back for Round 2 of that. “No, what’s up?”

“I just…we need to talk about something. It’s important,” he responded, an unhappy look on his face.

Allison kept her face blank, though a warning flag definitely went off in her mind. “Okay, what’s going on?” 

He sighed and sat down next to her. “It’s my job. They want to move me. To Boston.”

“Oh,” was all Allison could manage. She hadn’t really seen that coming. “Are you…I mean, do you want to go?”

“Want? No, not really. But I do have to go,” Scott replied, grimacing. “It’s a little hard to explain, but I have a contract with this company and it allows them to move me whenever they see fit. I don’t normally date because I move around a lot, but I really thought they’d let me stay here a lot longer. And you were just…amazing. I couldn’t stay away.” He bit his lip. “I’m so sorry, Allison.”

“I…wow, okay.” She turned away from him slightly, trying to process this. They’d only been dating a couple of months, but things had moved pretty quickly and she’d fallen harder than expected. Harder than she’d even realized, apparently, if this sudden hurt was any indication. Scott was leaving. She wouldn’t get to see him, talk to him, kiss him every day. But it didn’t have to mean they were over. She turned to face him, a plan rapidly forming in her mind. “Well, this isn’t ideal, but people do long-distance all the time.”

His face dropped even further, somehow. “But I can’t. I just…hearing your voice but never getting to see you? That would hurt more. And I’m going to be really busy with work, so we wouldn’t even get much time to talk. I’m sorry.”

Oh. Okay. He didn’t want to stay together. Despite understanding his reasons, she couldn’t help but feel a new sharp ache at the realization. He didn’t even want to try. “So that’s it, then, isn’t it?”

He leaned forward cautiously, giving her time to pull away. She didn’t. He kissed her lightly. “I really, really wish it wasn’t,” he whispered. A part of her wanted to cry and beg him not to go, but she wasn’t that woman. She would let him go if that’s really what he wanted.

“Me too,” she admitted softly. “Bye, Scott.”

“Goodbye, Allison.” And with that he was walking away. Out of Quake and out of her life. She took a deep, shuddering breath and placed her head in her hands, elbows leaning on the counter.

“Now that doesn’t look like a good employee work ethic,” a snide voice said from behind her.

“Martin, walk away,” she said calmly, not wanting to deal with him.

“I think you’re forgetting who’s the boss here, babe,” Martin sneered. 

“Well then, have fun looking for a new assistant manager,” Allison responded, standing up. “I quit.”

The manager spluttered, eyes widening. “What? You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can. Consider this my two weeks’ notice. Oh, and I’m leaving early,” she said, brushing past him to grab her purse from the back.

“This is extremely unprofessional!” Martin yelled, following her. “If you think I’ll give you a reference—”

“I’m giving you two more weeks, aren’t I? Hell, I’ll even help you look for a replacement,” Allison stated, eyes narrowing. “But if you want to threaten me, think again. Everyone in this restaurant knows exactly who’s been doing your job. If I went to the owner, not only would they back me up, but I’d probably get your job. So if you want to keep your job and your professional reputation, then you will let me go with grace and write me a phenomenal letter of recommendation if I ask for one. Got it?”

Martin took a step back from her, looking nervous. He looked away and jerked his head in a nod, before practically running for his office. Allison rolled her eyes. Fuck him, she was getting out of here.

X

“You’re early,” Stiles said, raising his eyebrows as Allison joined her siblings in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, I may have quit my job,” she replied, setting a couple of bags of takeout on the table. 

“Wait, what?” Lydia exclaimed. “I thought you were going to look for another one first.”

“I was, but today’s just been a really shitty day and I couldn’t deal with Martin’s attitude on top of that, so I just kinda quit…which was maybe not the best idea now that I think about it.” Allison busied herself with getting the food out; she could worry about jobs and money tomorrow, right?

“Welcome to the ranks of the unemployed,” Stiles said with an easy grin, grabbing an eggroll.

“What happened to your new job?” Allison asked.

“Yeah, my boss wanted me to lie to her husband about her affair, so that was kind of a no-go for me,” Stiles responded with a snort.

“Well, I left work early on my new boss’ first day, so I might not have a job on Monday, either,” Lydia interjected with a groan. Stiles shoved a wonton in her face. “Thanks.” She shot Allison a thoughtful look. “Care to explain why you’re playing with your rice instead of eating it?”

The brunette sighed and stuffed a forkful of fried rice into her mouth. At her sister’s raised eyebrow, she quickly swallowed and explained. “I know this isn’t even in the same league of what you two went through today, what with the almost dying and all, but…Scott and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. He’s moving to Boston for work, apparently.” She tried to shrug it off, but her siblings knew her too well for that.

“I’m sorry, Ally,” Stiles said gently. He didn’t look too surprised, though.

“You already knew, didn’t you?”

Her brother fidgeted and looked apologetic. “He told me this morning. He didn’t know how to tell you. It was pretty rough for him, too.” 

“Right,” she said, sighing a bit. She avoided Lydia’s sympathetic eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. It just…really sucks right now. So tell me about everything that happened with Barbas.”

“Well, to start with, his name wasn’t Barbas. Apparently, he’s some newbie named Peter. And he was a total fucking creep,” Stiles began. “But I guess he went after Lydia first, so take it away.”

And she did. Lydia told them both about almost drowning in the shower and how Jordan had inadvertently saved her life. Then Stiles picked up the story to explain how Peter had tricked him into meeting him at an empty house and how he had done the same to Lydia. Allison was pretty sure her jaw dropped when she heard about her mother’s ghost helping Lydia save herself. 

“Oh, and Lydia told me she loved me,” Stiles said, shooting Allison a significant look.

“And I thought Mom was the surprise twist in this story,” she responded wryly. “Care to explain your change of heart?”

“What are you talking about?” Lydia asked stiffly, looking away.

“Um, maybe the fact that neither of us have ever heard you say ‘I love you’ before, but you said it tonight?” Stiles replied.

“Twice,” Allison added. 

Lydia scowled down at her lo mein. “I…that was the last thing I said to Mom. On the day that she died. And I know I should count myself lucky that I got to say it one last time and that I wasn’t fighting with her that day or something. But…it didn’t feel right, saying it after that. Like it was curse or something.” She shook her head. “It’s stupid, I know. But I was seven and Mom had just died, and it just got stuck in my head that if I said those words, then I would lose someone again.”

Stiles looked stricken and Allison couldn’t blame him. How had she never known this about her sister? All this time she had thought that Lydia just had trouble expressing her emotions or something, but this was on a whole other level.

“Lyds…” Stiles trailed off.

“It’s okay,” the redhead said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not, like, traumatized. You don’t have to treat me any differently. I know I’m not cursed, okay? It just became a habit over the years to not say it. But seeing Mom, getting over the drowning thing…it brought back some old…stuff. But I’m older now, and I love you guys. I’m not going to avoid saying that because of some weird idea I had when I was a kid.”

“It’s not that weird. When I was a kid, I thought you were an alien,” Stiles said with a shrug. Allison and Lydia turned to their brother with twin looks confusion.

“What.”

“Yeah, I mean, you have red hair, which no one else in the family had…well, except Grams, but she dyed it. And you’re crazy smart, like inhumanly smart. So for a while there I was convinced you were an alien that was using a human family to blend in until you took over the world,” Stiles explained easily. “What, like that’s so weird?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Lydia and Allison responded in unison. Stiles pouted and stole Lydia’s last wonton.

“Hand me the wonton or lose an eye,” Lydia threatened, gesturing with one of her chopsticks. Stiles hurriedly stuffed the piece of food in his mouth, and Allison couldn’t help but laugh at Lydia’s outraged shriek. Watching her sister attempt to stab her brother with a chopstick helped make up for the events of the day, even if only a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barbas is one of my favorite demons, and Peter was absolutely perfect for the role. It's not an exact replacement, but I have my reasons. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	9. AUTHOR'S NOTE

So when I started writing this story, I was completely passionate about it and outlined a whole trilogy. The bad news is that I've gotten busier recently and just lost my passion for the writing aspect. I still love the story and am always adding little details and scenes to it mentally, but I don't have the time/energy to write it the way I want to anymore. It's become a chore at this point, to be honest, and that probably shows. So to avoid super long waits for lackluster updates, I think I'm going to stop writing. If anyone wants to pick this story up, let me know and I'll send you my outline. If not, then thank you so much for reading and I'm really sorry that I couldn't finish the story for you.


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